#charlie comes from a *loud* family

[miniscule-meow]

Charlie and Felix: Phone Calls

Masterpost Wordcount: ~2k Warnings: lots of swears? First Part | Last Part | Next Part

---

Sitting in her dorm room, she sighs, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. She is supposed to be focusing on her biology homework, but she keeps replaying her conversation with Felix in her head. So, he transferred from Rosehill University. That’s, like, The number one Supers college. Her brothers all go there. Or, went there. Her two oldest brothers, Elias, and Asher, have both already graduated. Mars is a senior now, and Jeremey, her twin, is a junior. Considering Felix is a junior as well, Jeremy and Mars might have had some classes with him. She pulls out her phone and texts Jeremy.

“Hey. Do you know Felix Westwell?”

“Ya. That guy is a jerk.”

Her brother’s response comes. Shortly after, her phone buzzes again, he adds,

“He got like, expelled lmao”

She replies,

“Nah, he just transferred to Bayshear.”

“??? WTF! Dude that’s crazy. Stay away from him. He’s bad news Frfr”

“We have a class together. He seems… nice enough.”

After that message, she immediately gets a phone call.

“Hello—” she starts to answer, but she’s immediately cut off.

“Char, I am so serious. You do not want to mess with that guy,” Jeremy’s loud voice announces as soon as she picks up the phone.

“Okay. Uh, cool. I just wanted to see if you knew him. I’ve had like, a couple of run-ins with him and he—”

“What kind of ‘run-ins’? What does that mean?” He cuts her off again, she rolls her eyes.

“I mean, we have a class together. We did a group project, calm down. Aside from that we’ve had like, one conversation,” she can already tell that she does not want to tell him out about her conversation with Felix yesterday. “He mentioned he transferred from Rosehill. I didn’t ask him about you though, he didn’t really want to talk about school.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Jeremy barks a laugh, “He got his ass expelled.”

“So, you weren’t like friends or anything then," she states.

“Friends,” Jeremy scoffs, “Yeah, for a while until he decided to go off the fucking deep end. Did you know he put Mars in the school infirmary for a month? He never apologized for that."

“Wait- that was because of him?” she asks, her heart sinking. She remembers that happening. It was late last year. Mars ended up being fine, thanks to the healers, but it was a really scary time. Apparently, that’s just sort of the nature of the school. When you’re strong enough, it’s common that other students will try to challenge that.

“Yeah man, he’s fuckin’ volatile.” Jeremy confirms.

Involuntarily, her heart begins pounding. Her mind drifts back to yesterday. Felix’s ability is no joke, she can definitely see that. But it’s crazy to think that the hands that held her yesterday were the same ones that nearly crushed her brother. Not that Felix was particularly gentle with her, not that she’s surprised he’s capable of it. It’s just that she didn’t truly consider how much danger she was in, until now.

“I guess. He definitely seems to have a short temper," she muses.

“To say the least,” Jeremy says with a huff, “It’s starting to sound like you’ve maybe had more than just a couple run-ins, Char. Spill it.”

“You’re going to freak out," she winces.

“I mean, now that you've said that, yeah, I want to freak out. The more you keep stalling, the worse I'm imagining.”

“Promise me that you’ll be chill," she asserts.

“Char,” he sighs.

“Promise!”

“Fine, whatever. I promise I’m going to be so chill about whatever horrible thing you’re about to tell me," she can hear the eye-roll in his voice.

“Okay so like, he was getting picked on for being a super—”

“Which he deserves,” Jeremey interrupts immediately, she should have put money on that happening. “He like, embodies all the reasons mundanes hate supers.”

“Germ, it was like, really problematic, okay? And besides, the guys messing with him didn’t know he was a super for sure. Anyway,” she begins, before her brother can cut her off again. “He ran off into the woods and I sort of followed him.”

“Charlotte,” he sounds disappointed, “you can’t just follow people into the woods.”

“I want to point out that I didn’t know he was a super at this point.”

“Uh, that’s,” he cuts himself off with an incredulous noise. “That’s so beside the point? Super or not, you shouldn’t just follow people into the woods, period.”

“So anyway,” she says, getting them back on track, “I wanted to check on him, and he showed me his ability. We talked for a while, it wasn’t a big deal," she tried to gloss over her explanation of the events.

“Wait, wait, wait. Run that by me again. He showed you his ability?” He asks, she can already hear the freakout that’s about to happen.

“You said you’d be cool about it!” She reminds him.

“I—” He takes an audibly deep breath, “by ‘showed you his ability’ do you mean that he used it against you?” His voice has a faux sense of calm to it.

“I don’t know that I would describe it like that.”

“Did he touch you, yes or no?” He asks, his voice trembling with a rage she can hear even through the phone.

“It’s not a big deal, Germ," she says, trying to smooth this over.

“Yes or no, Charlotte I’m being so for real right now.”

“Alright, so like only a little bit," she admits, "but I'm really fine. I’m really super fine, I promise—”

“Oh my god!” he explodes. “If I see him again, it is on fuckin’ sight.”

“No! No J, it is not ‘on sight’ do you even hear yourself!”

“Do you hear yourself?” He returns immediately. “Listen, Mars is strong as hell. Did you not hear the part where I said that Felix put him in the infirmary for a month. That’s four weeks with advanced healers, dude.”

“Alright, I get it—”

“What, Jeremy. You’re not here to protect me?” She can feel herself flash with a hot spark of anger, “Just because I don’t have powers, doesn’t mean that I’m completely helpless!”

“Do you? Seriously? Like, all of his ribs were broken. He literally almost died, and he's fucking Mars. You're you! You should not be putting yourself in these situations! You’re not invincible, Charlotte! I mean, you’re out there all by yourself, you can’t just—I mean, I’m not there, Mars isn’t there, like,” he heaves a frustrated sigh.

“Stop. That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he counters. “I’m saying, the whole point of you going to a mundane school was so you could just be around some normal people for once! But, Of course, you go and find the one super in the whole school. Of course, the one super at your school would be the most dangerous guy I know. Fucking great. I swear, it’s like you look at danger and just think Yeah, that looks friend-shaped, why not!”

“Whatever, Jeremy. Felix and I aren’t even friends! I told you we just had like, one conversation. He was sort of a jerk anyway. I—” she huffs, “look, I’ve got a lot of homework to take care of. I’ll talk to you later.”

She hangs up quickly, tossing her phone aside with a frustrated swear.

Jeremy has always been super protective of her. She understands where he’s coming from, and she can’t say that he’s wrong. But still. It’s so frustrating to hear him say it. Yes, she should be more careful. Yes, he’s not here to protect her. Yes, it’s scary that Felix nearly killed her brother. She didn't know that before.

Maybe she has a worse judge of character than she originally thought.

---

“Mr. Westwell, this has been an enlightening session,” his advisor says as they finish their online check-in. It’s what she always says, and it typically means that he’s done a bad job convincing her that he’s, he doesn’t know, normal? He supposes that's what she's looking for. Whatever it is she’s looking to get from him, it would seem as though he hasn’t been able to provide that just yet.

Even when he comes in, trying to answer the questions the way she wants them to be answered, he’s always met with a ‘this has been enlightening.’ She'll take her report back to the school, and he'll be stuck at this shitty mundane college. Theoretically, if he's on his best behavior, eventually Rosehill will accept him back. He doesn't think that's really going to happen.

“One more thing before I leave you, have you made any friends at Bayshear?” She asks.

“With any of the mundanes?” He scoffs, “I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

“Hm,” she says, obviously disappointed. She tilts her head, making a note of that response.

“Well, alright. I’ve made one friend, if it’s that important,” he covers quickly, crossing his arms with a huff. The coordinator pauses. The picture of her on his screen looks up at him over the rim of her glasses.

Great now he needs to think of a believable lie. Or, actually, wait. Maybe it doesn’t need to be a lie. It certainly won’t be the entire truth, but he might actually have something here.

“I met this girl. Her name is Charlotte. I don’t, uh, I don’t know her last name. She’s in one of my gen-ed classes, we were partners on a project.”

“Alright,” the coordinator does not sound terribly impressed. Now that he's heard himself say it out loud, he isn't really impressed either. Felix runs the mental math, trying to figure out if telling her what really happened would be better or worse for his record. She had asked him the story behind his black eye earlier, and he completely fielded the question, changing the subject entirely. Maybe he can actually spin this one though. It's worth a shot.

“Okay, fine. Do you want the story about my eye?” He says, gesturing to his still swollen face, The coordinator takes of her glasses, listening with a raised brow. “I’m not changing the subject, it kind of all goes together,” he sighs. “So these guys were being really obnoxious, and I know you probably won't believe me, but they actually started a fight with me. I swear I was actually trying to de-escalate and everything. But, I mean, long story short,” he gestures again to his face. “Maybe you should put in your notes that I lost a fight to a couple mundanes on purpose. If they were supers that would not have happened. But,” he raises his hands, digressing.

"I went out to the woods nearby to blow off some steam and Charlie- uh, Charlotte, the girl from my class, she followed me. I was like, ‘hey you need to leave,’ because I was going to use my ability, and I obviously didn’t want her there for that. Because I'm actually really trying to be on my best behavior and not traumatize the random mundanes here. But, she is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, so did she leave? Of course not. So, I grew, but she didn’t freak out. She was really normal about it. Uh, we," he decides to respectfully omit all the middle parts of the story, "we just, ended up talking. Apparently her brothers go to Rosehill? I don’t know. She also said she wouldn’t tell anyone about my abilities because the mundanes are weird about that sort of thing here. And, anyway. I don’t know. That’s probably a lot of nothing. It’s a new development. But yeah, we’re totally friends. Check.”

“Felix, that is…” enlightening. Yeah, whatever. He predicts her next words, but he's surprised when she says instead, “that is really some great progress. I’m happy to hear that,” she says. He looks up. “I hope to hear more about Charlotte next time, she sounds like she could be a good influence for you.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah for sure,” he says, and with that the videocall ends. This is great news for him. Charlie is such a social butterfly. And so far, he hasn’t really been able to get her to leave him alone.

Maybe he’ll make a friend after all.

[severepink]

Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day sixteen.

Breeding Kink (3.2k words)

summary: Since the moment he met you, Lando knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children, and that feeling only intensified when he saw taking care of your nephew.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talking, breeding kink.

To anyone else, and as people would expect, seeing your significant other with a child should warm your heart; it should give you a soft spot for the person you’ve vowed to spend the rest of your life with. 

Lando did feel like that when he saw you interact with any kid, like when you were walking in the paddock and a kid came up to him and you always made conversation so they wouldn’t feel so shy, or when a driver brought their kid to the race and you immediately leaned down to talk to them, sometimes even holding their tiny hands as they swore they had the coolest thing to show you.

That was the first few times, at least. But he will never forget how everything inside him shifted when you first met his niece. She instantly fell in love with you, and she needed to drag you everywhere. Who could blame her, really; that’s just the effect you have on people.

But god, the effect you had on him? That was another level, because the way he felt that weekend when you picked up a motherly role when you were with her made him feel something he had never felt before, something he never imagined, and quite honestly, he couldn’t explain it. That was until you were saying goodbye and the little girl nearly cried when her mother took her from your arms, and his hands instinctively landed on your tummy when he walked you back to the car.

The thought of you carrying his child and taking care of them the same way you did with his niece — now that is a fire he could never put out, not until it became a reality. He wanted- no, he needed to make you a mother; he desperately needed to put a baby in you in a way that was almost primal.

You and Lando have been together for years, and it was common knowledge that he wanted kids. Sure, you have talked about having a family one day after getting married, one day, but sometimes he just wishes you could skip all of that and make a baby once and for all. 

For months, he kept those thoughts to himself, not wanting to ruin what you had just because he couldn’t contain his desire buried for a little longer; that was until you babysat your 5-year-old nephew, Charlie.

He came back home sometime in the afternoon, eyes tired and body aching for the intensity of the past weeks. He wanted nothing more than to be with his girlfriend and forget about the world, but as soon as he stepped into your apartment, he heard the TV and loud chuckles coming from the living room.

His brows frowned in confusion as he dropped his bags next to the door and followed the noise, his heart nearly stopping when he spotted you playing with the little kid.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” He said with a huge smile.

“Oh hi, you’re home,” you sprinted towards him, hugging him tightly when he caught you in his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he kissed your temple. “And how is this little guy doing?" Lando walked towards Charlie, kneeling next to him to be at the same level. 

“Good, we are playing with the puppies,” he exclaimed, his tiny finger pointed at the TV. 

“Yeah? Are they fun?” He just nodded and ran closer to the glowing screen, completely forgetting about Lando’s existence and jumping again as his tired eyes followed the dogs.

“Don’t worry, my sister will pick him up in a couple of hours.”

“It’s fine. He seems happy.”

“And very tired. I think it's time for a nap, what do you say?” You walked towards him, trying to pick him up, but he refused.

“No! I wanna play racing again.” 

“We can play some other time, I promise.” 

He looked up at you, the corners of his mouth turning down as his eyes quickly filled with tears. He shook his head and ran back to Lando, who was still on his knees, as he caged himself in his arms.

“I wanna play racing,” he repeated, this time to your boyfriend, sniffling and wiping his tears.

“Yeah? We can play for a little while.”

“Lando-” The way he just betrayed you, you would never forgive him.

“He’ll want to go to sleep soon, don’t worry.” You saw them walk to Lando’s streaming room, Charlie skipping as he held his hand.

You rolled your eyes and followed them, crossing your arms as you rested against the door frame. Lando tried to pick him up, intending to sit him in the sim, but he nearly lost his mind, as if Lando had no idea how playing racing worked.

“No! Auntie.” Lando freaked out and out and put him back down, looking at you as he begged for your help with a single look.

“I’m right here, sweetie.”

You stepped closer to them, sitting on the chair as you picked him up and put him on your lap. He was happy again, his little feet kicking in the air as he gripped the steering wheel.

“We’ll do one more, okay?”

“Yes!” He happily exclaimed.

Lando watched the both of you in awe as you started the game, showing Charlie all the cool cars he could choose from.

“I want the blue car again!” He said, pointing at the Red Bull. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lando joked. You giggled at this, but chose the Red Bull for the race.

It was a free practice session, so you weren’t actually racing other cars, but you still got to drive it super fast, which is exactly what he liked. 

As the session started, you placed your hands just below his. You were doing all the work, but the illusion was still there. 

It was a little harder to drive like this, but you still managed to put up a few good laps without messing up too much, but even when you did, he was enjoying it, giggling and pointing at the screens as he turned to Lando to ask him an excited “did you see that?” Any time something happened, and every time, Lando would just nod and match his enthusiasm.

The session ended, and just like you did earlier today, you congratulated your nephew for his amazing driving. He took the compliments proudly as if he just won a championship, but his head soon fell on your chest, yawning as he snuggled closer.

“Okay, time for a nap.”

He didn’t resist this time. Instead, he nodded as his eyes closed. Lando helped you get up as you held Charlie close to you, walking towards the guest room; that was the room he preferred, saying your room was too scary and probably haunted.

You carefully laid him down, taking his shoes off and covering his body with a blanket. How was he already in a deep sleep? You had no idea, but you envy him.

While he was asleep, you took the time to clean up the mess he made earlier, picking up all the toys he brought and putting Lando’s helmets back where they belonged. You loved your nephew, you really did, but man, it was really challenging to take care of a child. Not only were they messy and unpredictable, but they had so much energy you could barely keep up. You often wondered how your sister did it. 

Once you finished up, you dramatically collapsed on the couch. “I need to sleep for like a week,” you joked, your boyfriend laughing at your antics.

He made his way to the couch, sitting next to you as he pulled you in a warm embrace, hands caressing your sides as he placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head. “Me too, and I was only here for like half an hour.”

“Imagine! I’ve been with him since this morning. I’m never babysitting again.”

“No? But you love Charlie.” He looked at you expectantly, trying to decipher if you were being serious.

“I do, but it’s too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know what we’ll do when we have our kids.”

Our kids. Two simple words that opened up a can that you would never be able to close. He stayed silent, mentally cursing the tent forming in his pants for betraying him in such an innocent moment.

You didn’t think anything of it, nor did you realise what those two words did to him, so you just reached for the remote control and browsed the channels. You ended up picking a cooking show, paying attention as if you would ever cook anything like that.

The entire time, Lando was paying attention to you — all of you. He admired your face, your hands, your hips… your tummy. He couldn’t stop himself from placing both his hands on your stomach, imagining what you would look like carrying a child. His child. He was well aware he was getting ahead of himself, but after witnessing today’s events? God, he needed to do something about it.

Another hour went by, and you were already catching up to your boyfriend’s intentions. To you, everything seemed normal at first, but the lower his hands got and the way his thumb was rubbing soft circles on your stomach, it clicked. You knew how Lando felt about having a family with you, but it never crossed your mind that seeing you with kids affected him so much. Though it all made more sense now, any time you were near a kid, even if you didn’t interact with them at all, his hands would be all over you, and when he got you alone? That’s another story, but you never connected the dots until now. 

Suddenly, a phone call made both of you jump. It was your sister calling you to let you know she was in the building, ready to pick Charlie up. You gathered all his things as Lando greeted your sister, walking her in and guiding her to the guest room.

“Aw, he looks so peaceful.”

“Well, you should’ve seen him two hours ago,” you joked.

“I know,” she laughed with you. “Thank you for taking care of him on such short notice, you saved my life today.”

“It’s okay, I love spending time with Charlie, and I’m happy to do it any other time.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. He honestly loves you, you have no idea how happy he got when I told him we were coming here.” Your sister was about to carry Charlie in his arms, but Lando offered to bring him down to the car. 

Okay, now you got it. You had to admit that seeing Lando carry a little kid did things to you, and since your realisation a few minutes ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about a family; how did you suddenly get your own case of baby fever? Sure, you were still young, and that probably wouldn’t happen for at least a few years, but fantasising couldn’t hurt anyone. 

You walked back to the apartment holding Lando’s hand, his grip so tight you thought he could break your hand if he squeezed a little harder. As soon as the door closed behind you, he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around, his lips crashing into yours in an intense kiss.

Kissing him back, your arms wrapped around his neck as one hand played with his hair.

“You looked so pretty today, taking such good care of the baby,” he mumbled against your lips, biting it sofly. You couldn’t contain the moan that left your mouth, only encouraging him further. 

He carried you to your bedroom, immediately throwing you in the bed and hovering over you. He pressed himself further into you, making you very aware of his hardening cock as he nudged his bulge into your lower stomach. You moaned again, your legs going around his torso to pull him down.

“I wanna put a baby in you. God, you would look so perfect.” He didn’t know what to do with you. He wanted to kiss you, bite you; he wanted to touch you everywhere, his own mind making him feel overwhelmed. 

After quickly taking off your shirt, he started kissing you everywhere, a trail of wet kisses making their way down your body. His touch was electric, making you nearly squirm beneath him as your fingers kept a tight grip on his hair, and his words only made the feeling intensify. 

“Lando,” you moaned, he hummed in response, “do it,” you simply said. God, the way everything inside him shifted is something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. He looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger and desperation you had never seen before. 

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby here?” He asked you, his big hand falling on your lower stomach as he kissed it. 

“Mhm, yes.” Your heartbeat was as strong as ever, and you were already having a hard time focusing. You needed him to do something and you needed it now. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as his hips involuntarily thrusted into the mattress. His lips kept exploring the lower part of your body as his hands worked on getting rid of your joggers, hands falling on your thighs immediately after to move them to rest on his shoulders. 

“Please, I need you so bad,” you begged, and he assumed you were asking him to pay attention to your poor pussy, which you were, but his mouth is not what you needed right now, so you stopped him after one firm lick. “Inside me.”

“As you wish, my love.” 

He got off the bed to quickly discard his clothes as you did the same with your bra, falling back on the bed as you eagerly waited for him. You felt like his gaze was piercing you as he lowered his body, pressing himself against you.

You moaned in anticipation, your arms wrapped around his neck as you felt your pussy starting to drip with desire. He moved his fingers along your sides and all the way down to your hole, collecting your wetness and spreading everywhere, finally getting to your clit as he rubbed soft circles for a moment.

He moved his mouth to your chest, taking one of your nipples into your mouth as he whimpered, and his mind instantly went to how sensitive and full they would be once you were pregnant, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “You look so fucking sexy tonight, sweetheart... I wanna fuck you so bad.” He was practically drooling as his fingers left your pussy and grabbed his cock, pumping it a couple of times before guiding it to your entrance.

You couldn’t help your gaze dropping to his member, already swollen at the tip and bubbling with precum. It seemed impossible, but you were sure you had never needed him this bad.

He pushed into you, making both of you moan loudly as his eyes met yours for a moment before pressing a kiss on your lips, whispering a little “I love you.”

He didn’t give you that long to adjust. His hands went under your ass, moving you up and down his cock. As if your sex life wasn’t already rough, the intention he had in mind just made him go crazier, because the way he was thrusting into you was bound to leave you sore for days. 

The room was filled with whimpers and slick noises the whole time, moans of each other’s names joining from time to time. “Gonna fill you up so good,” he breathed, his hands squeezing your ass, “fuck, can’t wait to see your tummy grow.” All you could do was moan, the words leaving his mouth putting you under a spell that you could never escape. “Do you want that, love?”

“Uh- huh,” you managed to spit out, fingers drigging into his strong biceps.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck- ah. I want you to put a baby in me.” You replied, eyes focusing on what your words did to him.

His hips began to speed up, thrashing your head against the pillows as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep inside you. He was so deep you could practically feel him in the pit of your stomach.

“Harder,” you whimpered, and he immediately started to drill into you, the air nearly getting knocked out of your lungs as his grip tightened. 

“You feel so good around me, so so good for me,” he pants, looking down to where you were connected. “Fuck.”

“Ah- Lando.” It felt so good. So good that you are too far out of reality to form any thoughts; you could only think about him and how good he looked above you, with his mouth hung open in pure pleasure as he panted.

One of his hands made its way to your tummy, pressing down where he could feel himself. It was so simple yet so effective; he could feel his cock moving deep inside you. He gragged it further, his fingers catching your clit.

“Fuck,” you let out a broken moan, ���just like that.”

He smirked at this; it was like you were begging him to get you pregnant as you began to tighten around him. He knew you were close; he could not only feel it but see it, the way your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs started to quiver.

“You wanna cum? You wanna cum while I fill you up?”

“Fuck,” you screamed as your head frantically nodded. 

“Cum with me, I’m gonna put a baby in there.”

With that, your orgasm began to take over, squeezing around him tighter, triggering his own release. He slowed his movements down and both his hands took a hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you wouldn’t waste a single drop.

Both your moans were even louder as he did his best to continue pushing into you through his orgasm, wanting to pump as much of his seed into you as he possibly could. When he physically couldn’t keep going, he stopped, keeping his cock deep inside you as he tried to catch his breath. 

He looked down at you, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at the mess he made. Slowly, he pulled out, his fingers quickly replacing his cock as he pushed his cum back into you, making you squirm and whimper at how sensitive you were. 

“Gonna have to squeeze for me, love, you gotta keep it inside.” The sight almost made him want to fuck you again; he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked filled up to the brim with his cum.

His eyes locked with yours, fingers going inside his mouth as he licked them clean. He had lost his mind; you were sure of that, but fuck, you couldn’t deny how hot that was.

With a satisfied smirk, he fell next to you, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you once more. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

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[shrimpybbq]

season 3 rafe with his gf & son

they’ve been on guadeloupe for a month now, and it was like rafe had transformed into a whole new person. he was the man of the family now, and he was taking over the finances, the household and all their business dealings. he had also changed drastically as a father, spending any of his free moments with charlie and everything he does, he does it for him

ugh rafe treats his gf so good in season 3, doing his best to show her just how much he appreciates her. he’s constantly spoiling her with affection, gifts, and dates. they go to nice restaurants on the island before coming back to the house, giggling as they make their way upstairs. rose groans as she sees rafe’s hands squeezing her ass, silently thankful her room is on the other side of the house (rafe is a loud grunter in bed, but sometimes he moans just that little too loudly)

they have the master bedroom in the house on guadeloupe and he loves to share a bath with his girl, relaxing with a glass of whiskey as she rests against his chest. rafe feels like everything is perfect in those moments

gf is still a bit uneasy about all the events that took place, but she tries to push her feelings away. she was here now, and this was going to be their life so she tries to embrace it

they spend lots of time out on the boat, lounging on the deck and relaxing in the sun. rafe loves to see his girl in a bikini, and he can’t keep his hands off of her, only behaving when charlie comes out with them too (rafe and charlie wear matching swim shorts)

she’s 100% in denial about the buzzcut at first, eyes widening as he walks through the door. he had mentioned getting a haircut but not this! gf is running her hands over his scalp sadly, whining about where ‘her’ hair went

“Don’t you like it, baby?” Rafe asked, looking down cheekily at his girl. He hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“I mean…. you still look good,” she said as her hand gravitated to the nape of his neck, quietly admitting “it suits you.” Rafe just smirked before placing a passionate kiss on her lips, his lips curving as she automatically went to thread her fingers through his locks, a small whimper leaving her in frustration.

when rafe meets with carlos singh, he’s already missing his family. after being blindsided by singh’s demands he goes to leave only to be stopped, the older man speaking calmly, “do I look like a fool to you, Mr Cameron? I know you want to get back to your pretty little family, but you have the cross, therefore, one of you has had the diary. If you don’t want anything to happen to those you care about, then get me that diary.” rafe is immediately on edge, telling him not to speak about his family ever again. he can’t stand the idea of either his gf or son getting caught up in his drama

rafe isn’t keen on going back to the obx, especially not after settling into a routine in guadeloupe. i can picture him refusing to go unless he gets to bring his family with him, despite their reluctance. little charlie loves guadeloupe and doesn’t want to go, but a little convincing from his mother and father and he’s excited and clapping his hands happily

barry comes around to tannyhill to discuss his and rafe’s plan, only to see the couple sitting outside on the large balcony. rafe is outstretched on the lounge, girlfriend sleepily tucked against his side. she’s almost asleep when barry walks in, whistling loudly at the sight of rafe’s hand once again on her ass

wherever rafe goes, gf goes too - he’s becoming paranoid that someone will hurt them. because she comes everywhere with him now, she’s aware of everything happening with the gold. rafe trusts her, and he tells barry that he should too. besides, it’s her and her son’s future in the balance too

when ward returns to kildare, rafe is not happy. he finally feels like things are falling into place - his girl is happy, his kid loves being home and he has the cross (or what’s left of it). he can start again, become a real businessman and provide for his family. he can give them a life others could only dream of, and whatever his dad wants is no longer relevant to him

rafe proudly displaying his girl in front of the whole party at his house, a little drunk and declaring his love for her, her cheeks flushing deeply at his words

rafe who has some of the gold turned into a ring to propose to her with, plus a pair of wedding bands for later. he wants to spend his whole life with his girlfriend, and call her his wife for real this time. rafe proposes casually, bringing out the ring from his bedside table one morning, sliding it on her finger while she sleeps. high school gf stirs later, going to brush her hair out of her face only to catch sight of the gleaming rock on her finger

“Rafe? What’s this?” She asked teasingly, rolling over to look at Rafe as he pulled on his shirt. He smiled cheekily, feigning ignorance.

“Hmmm… I don’t know anything about that, but it looks nice - don’t you think?” Rafe responded, matching her teasing tone. At the sight of a smile spreading across her face and a small ‘mmhmm’, Rafe couldn’t help but lean over the mattress, his arms caging her in. He placed a heady kiss on her lips, only drawing back once both were breathless.

“Are you gonna keep it on?” The blonde man asked, a hint of nervousness seeping through his voice.

“Of course I will, baby.”

rafe loves calling his girl his fiancée, so proud that he finally stepped up and showed her how much she means to him

he won’t tell her about his plans to kill his dad, but he’ll talk in vague terms to her about it. when she probes, he just tells her that this time it’s better if she doesn’t know

after rafe sends his dad to go on the plane, he returns to tannyhill. he had received his father’s blessing, and he was in charge of everything now. he feels like he has the entire world in the palm of his hands, and the perfect family by his side

his pretty fiancée waking him up a few weeks later with the sound of her vomiting in the ensuite, the second day in a row. she’s pale as she looks up at him, weakly resting her head against the wall as she asks him,

“What do you think about having another baby?”

Click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

Click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

[sanakiras]

BOUND BY BLOOD [TEASER]

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 692 [full fic is 10k+]

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — mentions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), explicit sexual content, mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, additional tags to be added

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. yes i came up with this fic after going through ethel cain’s discography can you tell. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a fantasy, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who took you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee in an attempt to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

this is a snippet of a fic i’m still working on so no release date yet, but if you’d like to be tagged once it’s released, leave a comment! x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[nurse-floyd]

Broken Promises

Anon request: "Max x Leclerc reader . In which its readers bday and it’s her bday party and charles doesn’t show up for the 3rd year after like promising he would for sure show up and she doesn’t like even want a bday anymore. I swear i don’t hate charles LOL."

Summary: It’s your birthday, and once again, your brother Charles has fails to show up despite his promise.

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

Warnings: none. Poor use of Google Translate for language.

You’d planned everything perfectly and exactly how you’d wanted. The decorations were perfect, and you had streamers, balloons, and fairy lights hung around your spacious living room. Max had helped, getting caterers in and the best birthday cake you could ask for.

However, your excitement quickly turned to disappointment as your phone lit up with a text from your older brother, Charles.

Charlie: Sœurette… I’m sorry, I cannot make the party. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

You threw the phone down angrily on the counter, not caring if the screen was broken or not. You cursed a few words in French as you let out your frustration.

“Tête de bite! Stupide imbécile!” you screamed.

Max came running as he heard the loud bang followed by your shouting.

“He promised, Max! He said he’d be here. He missed my last two fucking birthdays!”

Max stood there, letting you let out your anger but also feeling his own anger bubbling inside. Charles had promised; he was there when you were excitedly bouncing as you told Charles about the music, the decorations, and the food—how excited you were to celebrate with your whole family again when no one had races or interviews or promotions to film.

“I know, schatje… I’m sorry,” he comforted as he pulled you into his arms. He knew how excited you’d been and how much it meant for all your older brothers to be there.

You pulled away and wiped your tears as you tried to put on a brave face, tried to push through your emotions and finish setting up the place for your guests. Arthur and Lorenzo were still coming, and you just wanted Charles to be there for once. He’d missed the last two years, and he’d promised he’d be there this time.

As your guests arrived, you kissed their cheeks, hugged them, and took pictures, but your heart just wasn’t in it. The party was in full swing with music, food, and enjoyment, but you felt like an outsider in your own house. You watched as everyone else danced, laughed, and had fun, but you just couldn’t feel that joy yourself. You knew it was stupid, but you sat in the corner and watched the door, hoping it was just a joke your brothers were playing on you, hoping with everything that he’d walk through the door with that goofy smile and pull you into one of his hugs that you loved so much. But the door stayed closed, and your brother never came.

Max mingled with your guests and his friends, but he saw the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, how withdrawn you were, and how you kept checking your phone for any updates from your brother. He came to your side and took the seat next to yours, putting his arm around you as he pulled you into his side. “Are you okay?”

You sighed, determined not to let the tears that had been threatening to spill over fall. “I just don’t get it, Max. Why does he keep making promises he can’t keep? He hasn’t come to my last three birthdays now. Do I not matter to him?”

Max’s grip tightened around you. “I’m sorry, liefde. I know it hurts, but your birthday does matter, and so do you. You matter to me and to all the people here tonight.”

You buried your face in his shoulder as the tears you’d tried to keep in all night started to fall. “I don’t even want a birthday anymore. It hurts too much.”

Max gently shifted, lifting your chin slightly so he could look at you. “Don’t say that. Today is your day, and I’m going to make it special. Your brother might not be here, but I am, and so are your friends. Let’s not let him ruin another birthday, hmm?”

You nodded, knowing he was right and so grateful for the support. You sniffed and wiped away your tears. “Okay… but I don’t feel like being around everyone right now. Can we go for a walk? Get some fresh air?”

Max smiled and got up, holding his hand out for you. “Sure. Let’s go.”

You sent a text to Arthur to come up with an excuse in case anyone noticed you and Max were gone before you both managed to quietly slip out of the house. The cool air of the evening was a welcome relief from the crowded apartment. You and Max walked in a comforting silence, your hand in his as the lights of the city twinkled around you.

Max led you to a little bench on the beachfront and sat down, gesturing for you to join him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close once more. You closed your eyes, just enjoying the moment with you and him alone.

“You know, I hated my birthday too when I was younger. There was so much pressure to make it the perfect day, and it never was, and my dad wasn’t exactly parent of the year when it came to birthdays; he missed more than I can count.”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that, Max,” you leaned in closer to him.

“Now I’m older, all that matters is I get to celebrate another year of life and I’ve got you by my side.”

“You’re right. It’s just hard when someone you love lets you down.”

“I know,” Max replied as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “but you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere; no more broken promises.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Max, for everything. Sorry I ruined the party.”

“Shut up,” he grinned playfully. “You’ve not ruined anything. Besides, you saved me from your brothers. Anyway, I didn’t get to give you your present yet.”

You leaned away from him, your curiosity piqued. “What present?”

He reached into the pocket of the Red Bull jacket he’d thrown on before he left and pulled out a sleek black box, beautifully wrapped with a silver bow. “Happy birthday, schat.”

You took the box and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a rose gold necklace with four pendants, each with a letter on it: an M, J, S, and your initial.

“Now you can always carry us with you. You’ll always have me, Jimmy, and Sassy, and there’s room to add more,” he explained.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” you whispered, your voice laced with emotion.

You turned around and let him fasten it around your neck before turning back and leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you, love, for making today special despite everything.”

“Anything for you, schatje. Happy birthday.”

Although you knew you couldn’t get over your disappointment with Charles that easily, sitting there with Max, you knew that it didn’t matter who wasn’t there but who was, and with Max by your side, you’d be okay.

[liveontelevision]

Suffer Pt. 4 | Lucifer x Reader

The time has come, babes, this could be the final part

I wanna say this part is 18+ , so MINORS go away

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

♡♡♡

"I'll see you, Lucifer."

"I hope so."

Even with high hopes, Lucifer anxiously paces his own workshop, twisting his grip on his cane and watching the minutes pass by. Literally. He would either pull out his phone and check the time, or peak up at the novelty clock hanging nearby, and scoff at how little time has passed since the last time he decided to look. To occupy his time, he would rummage through his piles of squeaky creations, scanning over them as if he had anything on his mind other than you. He'd walk in front of a mirror, fixing his lapels, straightening his tie, then questioning whether or not he should just change entirely. With one more pacing lap around the small room, he stopped in front of the mirror again, while brushing his hair back with his claws. The sudden glimmer of his wedding band reflecting some light caught his attention. He froze in front of his reflection, then shifted his gaze down to his left hand. He twisted it around as if he never noticed it until now, even after wearing it for 10,000 years. Why is it bugging him now?

Oh, yeah. He was about to see you in just a few minutes.

But that shouldn't upset him, you two were becoming friends again.

Lucifer broke his gaze from his hand and looked towards the large family painting still hung on the wall. He couldn't take it down. He had no idea why Lillith left, for all he knows, it could've been a perfectly valid reason. But she looks so happy in that picture. In fact, they all looked so happy. How did that happen? A combination of the clock chiming, and an alarm he set the day before, going off at the same time made him jump. He fumbled his phone into his suddenly sweaty claws, letting out a nervous yelp. 

3:01PM

"Aw, Hell! I'm late!" Before snapping his fingers to open a portal to the hotel, he mindlessly slipped the ring off his finger and placed it carefully on his desk, leaving it alongside a family portrait.

— 

You hummed your usual tune, the same one that calmed you and young Charlie, as you twisted and turned to examine your outfit. You were almost as nervous as Lucifer was. Well.. not really. He was a wreck. But why should you be nervous? Why would he be nervous? You two only agreed to meet up at the hotel and.. catch up some more. No activities were really planned, it was as if you simply wanted to hear each other's voices again. As if the late-night calls you were having weren't enough. It was a nice change though. No matter how late you were talking to each other, you slept like a rock the rest of the night. No need for some silly radio anymore.

Speaking of,

"Alastor, what did I say about knocking? Or even going through the door in general?" You questioned out loud, not even looking away from your figure in the reflection. The radio on your nightstand suddenly started playing a barely recognizable old-timey tune, and you could feel the radio static sensation growing in your chest, so you felt no need to break your concentration to look his way. You heard your bed creek next, only peeking in your reflection for a moment to catch Alastor sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed.

"Isn't today your weekly Rosie visit? What do you want?" It's not like he was bugging you, but recently Alastor had been keeping close quarters. You found him sitting next to you a lot, a little too close, during exercises. Which was strange, considering he never really attended exercises until recently.

Obviously, he's been inviting himself into your room without permission, which caused him to interrupt some phone calls with the king. He's also been inviting you out to Cannibal Town more often, and even bringing some unannounced fresh-cooked meals for you. You wouldn't admit to the cannibal thing, but it's hard to avoid it after working in that bakery for so long. You didn't mind it, as long as it wasn't.. rare. So, you suppose it was nice of him to cook for you. 

"Indeed! I’m assuming you'll be joining me, that is why you’re dressing so formally, correct? Rosie's been talking about you quite a lot, considering you've missed our last few outings." You could hear his teeth clench while he spoke his final words.

"All good things, I hope?" You had moved on to looking through a little jewelry box, occasionally pulling out necklaces and holding them up in the mirror to see how it'd look on you.

"Of course!" Alastor reassures, rising from the bed to stand behind you, his hands gently placed on your shoulders. He has to bend at the hips a bit to see his own face in the shorter mirror.

"Then, I'm sure she can handle one more lunch date without me. I'll join next time." You said, still rummaging through the little trinket box. With a victorious hum, you pulled out a little golden chain, with a snake charm that swirled into an S shape.

As you held it up to your neck, like you did with the rest, you felt Alastor's hands shift from your shoulders to take each end of the necklace, carefully pulling the chain around your neck to fasten it in the back. With a quick thank you, you pulled your hair to the side to assist him. His breath was hot against the back of your neck, sending an instinctive shiver down your spine. Alastor started to feel a bit flushed at the sensation, which surprised even him. The thought of sinking his teeth into the softest part of your neck, doing anything to keep your mind off of that damned angel, immediately flooded his mind. He fastened the necklace quickly, pulling away as fast as he could after that grotesque thought crossed his mind. He was sure that he was just hungry. He cleared his throat, stepping a good few feet away from you.

"So? How's this? Does it look okay with the dress?" Oh, it did. You tried your best to not concern yourself over what you wore, but Lucifer was always one to dress in his finest suits, so you'd hope to meet him at least halfway. Excuse the phrasing, but God bless Angel and his eye for fashion. You arrived in Hell before Charlie was even born, then essentially worked in uniforms up until you arrived in the hotel. Emphasizing that this was not a date, Angel found you a pretty little purple dress. It was perfectly fine as is, with thin straps, a skirt hugging your hips just slightly and stopping right below where your thighs meet. But he insisted you "spice it up", accessorizing you with a patterned corset, decorated in leafy designs and tied together with a silky ribbon at your back. It took you hours of convincing to even put it on for today. All this for just a hangout. What would you even do? Have dinner? Would Lucifer go into Pentagram City with you? What would happen if you stayed in the hotel? 

"Not exactly my style, I prefer something with more.. coverage. But you look lovely either way." Alastor's words broke your train of thought and you immediately turned red, embarrassed by how lost in your own thoughts you got. You recovered and rolled your eyes at him, finding your phone and looking through it.

"I don't know why I asked, it's not like I'm dressing up for you." You said, Alastor watching you as you swipe through something and then smile at your phone.

"Then who might you be dressing up for, might I ask?" He asked with a sly grin, leaning foward on his cane, craning his neck to look at your whatever could be making you smile so brightly. You pulled your phone to your chest and glared at him.

"No one! ..Me! I'm dressing for myself! Is there a problem with that, Al?" You let out a little humph, before checking the time on your phone.

"He should be here soon.." you said softly, almost hoping he didn't hear you. "Tell Rosie I said hi, will you? I'm seeing Lucifer today." You said quickly as you left your room, hoping you could avoid his response by leaving in a hurry. Luckily you did. You felt the static running through you soften as you went down the stairs, looking at your phone as you did. With one more mental pep talk, you took a deep breath and opened the hotel's double doors.

"Heyyyy! You!" Lucifer stood eagerly, without a ring to fiddle with, he toyed with his clawed hands behind his back. You should respond. You should greet him, say hi, welcome him in, anything. But he stood there wearing a plum and black purple blazer, that stopped just at his waist. It was fitted nicely over a ruffled black top and dark trousers. Before you could stop yourself, you realized you had let your eyes trace his body up and down. Quickly meeting his eyes with a reddened face, you nervously chuckle, stepping aside to let him in.

"S-Sorry.. I- uhh.. Hi. Lucifer." You finally greet him, shutting the door as he enters the hotel.

"You look nice. Purple always looked good on you." He stated out loud. Purple? When was the last time you wore anything purple? Looking around the hotel, he examined any detail he might have missed from his last visit. Of course, that wasn't what he was really doing. He was trying his hardest to keep his eyes off of you, needing to let his heart rate slow.

After finally calming himself down, he turns to you with a grin, opening his mouth to say something- but what he saw was you gripping onto the hem of your skirt with a nervous look on your face, your eyes wide.

Purple always looked good on you.

"Are you okay? Sorry, did I - uh.. should I - " you quickly step away from him, waving your hands.

"N-No! You're fine! I'm okay, I just uh.. dinner! You want something to eat? Or.. we can check out the city-" Desperately trying to take the topic off your feelings, you threw out some ideas for the night.

"Oh! Okay, Dinner sounds great! We should probably stay in the hotel, but will.. will anyone else be joining us..?" He looked around the clearly empty room.

"Charlie and Vaggie just left to try and recruit some sinners, Angel's working and Husk avoids people if no one's the bar, so.. I think that it might just be us." You smiled. Why were you smiling? Maybe because they're contagious. 

Alastor. The familiar grinning face comes trailing down the stairs, greeting you and you alone.

"Oh! Your Highness, I had no idea we'd have company!" He walked behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders again as he looked down at Lucifer.

"Al, I told you he was coming by." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Lucifer glared, immediately breaking the contact from him to look at you.

"Will he be joining?" Lucifer asked, in an agitated low tone.

"No, he's busy. Right? You were just leaving for Cannibal Town." You stressed, turning your head to look up at the towering demon. Lucifer wondered how you weren't intimidated by him? Your head barely reached the center of his chest.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to intrude! Just be careful with our little doll here, your majesty." He says, then leans closer to the crook of your neck. "And I thought I'd bring your cardigan, dear, it's a tad cold today." The sweater suddenly appears in his hands and he drapes it over your shoulders. It felt heavier than usual.

"Oh, um.. thanks.. Al." You clear your throat, shooting him the best smile you could muster in this embarrassing moment.

"Have fun with Rosie!" You finally said, essentially pushing Alastor out of the hotel's doors. None of that had to happen, he could've easily phased his way out of the hotel and you knew that. With a final sigh, you went back to Lucifer, taking off the sweater and folding it, before draping it over the couch in the lobby.

"What, not cold anymore? He was just trying to be nice." As much as you'd like to hear that as a joke, it had a sense of discomfort to it. You knew Lucifer didn't like Alastor; he made that clear multiple times. Considering he's been so kind to you though, you thought you had to at least try to defend him. But with Alastor's recent actions, and just how.. touchy... he's been, it's getter harder to try and explain his actions.

"It's Hell, Lucifer, it's never cold. It doesn't go with the dress anyway. Now, c’mon. I can make something quick in the kitchen." Trying to move past the subject, you take hold of his hand and guide him to the kitchen area.

You definitely cooked a lot more since you stayed in the hotel. Despite your mild cannibalistic tendencies, you loved making regular, flesh-free, food for everyone else. It was just who you are, you loved to dote. At this point, you were making meals for everyone, cooking specific courses for certain demons. Specializing in their favorites. It was no different than how you were when you were taking care of Charlie. A messy toddler had a constantly changing appetite, and Lucifer always seemed to admire how well you could keep up with that. I mean.. despite kissing a married king, who was also your boss, you were actually good at your job.

The cooking process went by fast, you put on an apron before starting to cook, which Lucifer could argue looked adorable on you. But he would never admit it. He simply sat on a nearby counter, his legs crossed over each other as he leaned back on the palm of his hands. You recreated something that used to be a favorite back at the manor, and of course, it was delicious. The two of you didn't even make it to the table. You plated everything and went towards the door, but before you could leave, you turned to see Lucifer already working on his plate as he sat on the counter. You laughed at him, before attempting to join his side. This was probably for the best, sitting at a table while eating seemed so.. Date-y.

You struggled to hop up to the counter without flashing anyone. Dammit, Angel. With a quick motion, Lucifer had his hands on your waist and he lifted you with ease onto the cold tabletop. With a nervous exchange of thanks, he hikes back up the counter and sits next to you. It felt ridiculous to examine the entire moment. Here you are, sitting on the edge of the damn kitchen counters with Lucifer, kicking your legs every now and then, laughing at jokes and just.. enjoying everything. He made you glad you lived in Hell.

The plates now set aside, Lucifer had turned to face you, his crossed leg lightly brushing against yours as he recalled some embarrassing things that Charlie did when she was growing up. Things that happened after you left.

"Oh it was bad, we don't even know what she used to dye her hair but it was not easy to get out. You know.. Teenager stuff, I guess." He showed off some images from his phone, making you lean into his shoulder to catch a better glance. You found yourself leaning past Lucifer, your sides fully together at this point. Lucifer braces himself up with his hand behind your back. When you finally had enough of the pictures of Charlie in her emo-phase, you sat straight, making Lucifer's arm shift to the small of your back. You hummed quietly at his touch.

Don't do this. Don't ruin this, not again.

"Dishes! I'll um.. let me clean up and we can find somewhere with actual chairs.." You hopped off the counter, stumbling a bit before leaning into the sink and starting the water. Before you could even start scrubbing, the dishes simply poofed from your hands and into the drying rack at the side of the sink, sparkling clean.

"Oh, right.. Angelic powers." You laughed nervously, looking around the room for a moment.

Finally deciding that the air was too thick with some kind of tension, you gestured him out of the room and showed him off to the small book room. You didn't go in here often, but it was either this or your bedroom.. Obviously, that wouldn’t end well.

Taking a seat on the little sofa in the room, you managed to get the conversation back on a regular topic, complaining about some customers you used to deal with while working in Cannibal Town. He finally went on a rant about his rubber duck fixation, which baffled you but didn't really surprise you.

The conversations didn't last long. It was bound to happen. Alone in the hotel? Catching up after all these years of built-up tension? It started with Lucifer placing his hand on the small of your back, something that has always given you butterflies. It didn't feel the same when Alastor would do it. Lucifer's hands were obviously smaller, but they were so gentle. And he had no intent on pulling you closer or keeping you sitting upright, he was doing it just so he could touch you. Your hands had traveled in between the two of you, supporting you as you leaned into him. The room was silent, but your thoughts were screaming in your head. He's hurt you before. He's just been alone for too long, this isn't anything special. Don't make the same mistake.

Staring into each other's glazed-over eyes, unsure of how to proceed but unwilling to move away, he finally bites the bullet. Raising his free hand to caress the side of your face, brushing a few strands of hair away, you place your hand overtop of his, relishing in his gentle touch. You felt his hand flinch a bit at your actions, but when you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned into his palm, he immediately felt at ease. He moves his hand towards him just slightly to better bring you closer. Your foreheads now pressed together, all your concerns went away. This wasn't like before. You felt so safe with him, there was no fear of things going wrong or being ruined. Not anymore. Not at this moment. Your comfort was disrupted by his quiet voice.

"A-Are you sure about this.? Can I.. Maybe we should just-" Shut him up. You muffled any other worried thoughts he might have by placing a gentle and quick kiss on his lips. His eyes widened just for a moment, looking surprised despite all that's happened beforehand. Suddenly desperate, he pulls you in, making your lips meet again in a long, long, overdue embrace.

You were just as desperate for this. All you could think of was how gentle he was being, even with the eagerness of his quickening breath. You leaned in more, forcing Lucifer to prop himself up with his hand beside him. You kept leaning. At this point he's taken both his hands off of you, needing to brace himself up. Your lips never pull apart. You placed your hands on his chest, moving underneath his jacket, and onto his shirt, just to be even the slightest bit closer to him. Suddenly processing the position, Lucifer shifted his leg to allow you to crawl closer to him. You were careful, you knew this was long overdue, but it'd be a bad idea to do anything too intense right now. It would overwhelm both of you. Still, finally breaking your kiss, you pushed back to assess his beautiful expression. He looked disappointed. Almost runny eyes, he was propped up by his elbows while you kelt your hands placed on his chest. His porcelain skin contrasted with the red glow across his cheeks.

"You okay, Lucifer?" You asked softly, reaching a hand to brush some strands of hair back into place. He only nodded, before returning a hand onto your back and pulling you on top of him, deepening the kiss you had so rudely interrupted. You felt his hand pull away for a moment, and heard him snap his fingers. You heard the door shut. Then you heard it lock. That made you as nervous as it did relieved. Pulling away for a moment you decide to tease him.

"What, you couldn't have done that before?" You said slyly with a smirk on your face. With a sarcastic laugh, he pressed a kiss onto your smile. Neither of you could believe what was going on right now.

Both your breaths were becoming heavy, Lucifer had scooted to rest his back on the arm of the couch, he pulled you closer and rested his hands around your waist. Neither of you had made the decision to go any farther than enjoying each other's lips yet, but at the same time, you wouldn't complain about staying connected to him like this forever. He reached back and tugged on the silky ribbon of your corset, maybe not as an invitation, but to find something to fiddle with to keep his nerves at bay. You weren't sure. But there was no harm in assuming, right? You took hold of his hand, which still held one of the laces, and guided it to pull it completely loose. It wasn't covering anything, it just loosened the fit of your dress. It wasn't like you were stripping for him. But his face was absolutely flushed by the action.

Letting the corset belt drop to the ground, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. Moving to the inside of his coat, you slipped your fingers over his shoulders to guide the jacket off of him. With some more shifting and adjusting, you both sat straight. Lucifer found himself dragging his lips to your chin, then your jawline, guiding your head to tilt back for easier access. Pulling your body against his with one hand, he cradled your head with the other, running his claws gently across your scalp before doing so. The action sent shivers down your spine, almost a relieving sensation to your hot skin.

He speckled kisses down your neck, taking his time to cover every inch of you. You could feel his labored breath against your skin every time you let out a little moan or hum. He ran his hand down your shoulder, hooking the strap of your dress with his thumb and moving it aside, careful not to undress too much. Not yet. With the newfound space, he nipped at your skin, making you yelp quietly. You quickly place a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the sounds coming from you. Lucifer was not going to let that happen. He traced your arm, running his fingers along your skin, and gently pulled your hand away from your mouth.

"W-What - " You could barely question him, before he forced another yelp from you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just a bit deeper this time. He hummed at your finally unmuffled voice, taking your hand that he had been holding and guiding it to his head. You immediately took hold of his hair, gripping just lightly, something to keep you from floating away, while he continued to work across your collarbone. Feeling a light suction, you gasped and yanked on his hair, pulling his face away from your chest.

"N-No, no marks! Don't be.. mm... s-stupid.." you scolded, as he leaned down, and ran his tongue up the length of your neck.

"What if I put them somewhere only I can see?" He had moved to your ear at this point, kissing the crook of your jaw as he spoke so sweetly against your skin. Ooh, fuck, you wanted that. Bad.

You took a hold of his jaw and pulled him back up to your lips. Placing your thumb along the bottom of his lip, you opened his mouth a bit, inviting yourself into his mouth. Tracing his lower lip with your tongue, you slid inside, his tongue feverishly following suit. The sensation forced a quiet whimper out of Lucifer, you felt his body weight droop for a moment, falling forward and pushing you onto your back. Caging you in with his arms, he refused to pull away, even if he needed to breathe.

You pushed his chest slightly, and he immediately pulled away, his lustful gaze turning to concern. You watched him catch his breath. While he was panting, you could see his forked tongue just slightly hanging from his lips, which were glossy from the messy and desperate kisses you'd been exchanging. You looked up and down his body for a second. Keeping your hands on his chest, you smoothed over his shoulders, before pulling him back in for another kiss. With your hands still near his chest, you reached towards the clasps of his shirt, beginning to work the expensive feeling fabric off of him. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin. You ran your closer hands across his bare chest, once completely undone. He was overheated and panting, you were just helping him, obviously. You'd say anything to convince yourself that what your doing was okay. Why wasn't it okay, again?

"It's okay, babe, we'll try again later." A saddened groan was muffled through the closed door. Oh. Right. You heard Vaggie comforting a frustrated Charlie just outside the room. You both looked at each other with widened eyes, probably for longer than you should’ve. It was a mixture of disappointment and anxiety. And a little bit of consideration, that maybe they won't check the room if you're quiet. The set of footsteps was coming closer, possibly passing the room to go up the stairs, but it finally forced you out of your head.

You pushed him off of you, desperately making as much distance as possible. The motion of pushing him from his chest, which your hands were so sweetly caressing moments before, took the air out of his lungs, forcing out a loud groan. Hushing him as if you weren't the reason he was wheezing, you struggle to get your corset back on. Finally giving in, you threw it over the back of the couch and took hold of your trusty sweater that was still draped over the back of the couch. You scrambled to put it on. Lucifer simply snapped his fingers to fix up his hair and return his suddenly clean and crisp top back on him. You also heard him unlocking the door.

"Fucking angelic magic.." you muttered, out of breath from your little frantic display. He lets out a cocky chuckle. Taking the risk, he pulls you in for one more quick kiss. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment, his eyes absolutely sparkling just at the sight of you.

His hand slipped away quickly once the door opened.

"Holy shit- dad?? You didn't tell me you were visiting!" Charlie held onto the handle as the door was opened, Vaggie stood beside her looking just as confused. Before you could acknowledge it, Lucifer gestured to the little coffee table in front of the couch, with some random board game sprawled out on it. When did that get there?

"Heyy Sweetie- well, I-I uh.. we were just catching up, ya know, playing some games. The.. usual.." He grinned nervously, picking up some random game piece and observing it like he knew what it was for.

"Yeah, don't worry Charlie, I'm kicking his ass." You said smoothly, smiling at him when he turned towards you with a glare. You were definitely better at acting casual than he was.

"Oh! Well.. okay, then! Maybe we can all get a game in before you go!" Charlie planned out, already walking off. Lucifer sent a sweet smile and a little wave to Vaggie. She returned the greeting, a comforted smile on her face as she followed after Charlie.

"Well! That was-" Lucifer turned to you with a nervous expression, scratching at the top of his hand.

"- A close call?" you said through some chuckles, "but.. good. It was good." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile you couldn't shake off. You looked at him nervously fidgeting with his hands, your eyes widening at the sight of his ring-less finger. Blinking a few times, thinking that maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, you couldn't stop yourself from turning red.

"Just good? I'm offended, sweetheart, I thought I did a pretty amazing job there." He boasts, crossing his arms across his chest. Jokes were another coping mechanism Lucifer used often. But you weren't caught up on that.

Sweetheart. You sucked in your lips to hold back a ridiculously wide grin.

Awkwardly clearing his throat when you didn't respond, he clasps his hands together in his lap.

"Sooo.. what now..?" He asked sheepishly. He sounded nervous asking that. You took a hold of his hand and kissed his knuckles, before standing and taking him along with you.

"Now, we have to play some random board game with Charlie. That's your fault, by the way." He laughed after letting out a sigh of relief, following behind as you left the room.

Things were really looking up after that. The board game was awful, and you had to avoid eye contact with Lucifer the rest of the night, the sight of him turning you red immediately. His lips were all over you literal minutes before this, yet he’s acting much calmer than you. It almost frustrated you. Charlie even asked if you were feeling sick at some point. What a fucking nightmare.

Besides that, the unavoidable tragic events proceeding with the extermination day came and went. You did everything in your power to defend the hotel alongside Charlie and your newfound family. During the battle, you found yourself getting distracted by Lucifer's little fight with Adam. It's not like Adam wasn't getting a few hits in, but Lucifer seemed completely unphased. Sometimes you forget. You've seen him as a nervous, loving father, with a habit of making too many ridiculous jokes, but at the end of the day, he was powerful. He was more powerful than anything else in this realm. It was kinda hot..

A spear flying by your head snapped you out of your thoughts, and you groaned, simply embarrassed by your own mind.

The construction of the hotel went the same, he was creating endless materials amd assistance for the crew and you couldn't help but appreciate his strength and abilities. You assisted Charlie to keep your mind from thinking about Lucifer's teeth sinking into your shoulder or how smooth and warm his bare skin felt underneath your hands. But you found yourself chatting it up or helping Lucifer with some tasks every now and then.

Still, you had your fun during the process, sneaking off every now and then to "recharge". A single kiss on the cheek gets this man going, but you kept it at that. You weren't willing to risk any more run-ins.

Finally, the renovations were nearly finished, you were walking the halls just looking for any little things that may need to be cleaned up before you were meant to meet outside for the finale touches. Humming and scanning the area for any debris, you were stopped in your tracks feeling a fuzzy static sensation. It didn't feel like Alastor's usual presence, it was uneven and wavering. You looked around, finally finding him leaning against a wall with a hand clutched over his chest.

"Holy shit- Al! We thought you died, what happened?Oh my god, are you hurt? I mean everyone's gonna be relieved that you're okay, but we have to get you patched up soon or-" you rushed towards him as you spoke, watching a new pocket of blood seep through his coat. Attempting to reach for the wound, his hands came to your shoulders, Holding you with a bruising strength.

"A-Al, that hurts.." you gripped his wrists, attempting to pull him off of you.

"I hate to do this, love, but it appears I'm desperate. In exchange for my silence, you said you owe me one. Now, do me a favor. Stay away from that pompous king." Before you could say  anything else, a whirring green smoke encased you both, finalizing the deal.

"What? Hold on, what did you do? Alastor, what's going on?" You questioned him desperately as he released his hands from your shoulders.

What just happened?

"Hm. Don't make such a fuss, I'm just helping you. Unless I'm forgetting, I'm quite sure he did something to hurt you in the past. So it's probably for the best to keep your distance. Ah! I believe they're looking for us, outside, dear! Shall we?" Alastor brushes off his suit, covering the stain with his overcoat and suddenly dropping the injured act. He hooks your arm into his and the two of you melt away into the shadows before you could protest to anything that just happened.

♡♡♡

lmao jk there's more parts coming

( Just an extra extra note, it honestly takes me awhile to write, I usually work on it piece by piece over a few days, then it takes me a day or two to finish editing it, plus it all depends on what's motivating me that day :') PLEASE keep sending more requests and I really appreciate everyone who has already sent one in being so patient )

!Taglist! (Some of the blogs aren't tagging and I have no idea why if anyone knows why please lmk :,)

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[sebscore]

Omg LL idea!!! Him bringing her up on the podium with him in his karting days🤭 He is in like the teenage “inchident” years, and he wins a race that LL attended with the family, and he beckons her over and onto it with him in her cute little summer dress, adorable!!

A DAY AT THE RACES

pairing: leclerc family x leclerc!reader (+ gasly fam cameo)

warnings: toddler tantrum. crying. 

author's note: toddler leclerc is back!! huge shoutout to @champomiel for making me obsessed with a baby little leclerc :))) and also thank you to each person who send in a request regarding baby leclerc!! 

masterlist 

• • • • • • •

''When Charles drives by, you have to yell his name very loudly, okay?'' Pascale told the toddler in Lorenzo's arms, smiling as she saw her daughter respond enthusiastically. 

Her older brother nodded to their mother's words. ''Yeah, you have to scream ''Go Charles!'' so he can hear you.'' He added. 

The young girl nodded to their words, all her attention back on the track in front of them. It was her first time at Charles' karting race- or at least the first time she was consciously experiencing it. 

Y/N was still only a toddler so everything is still quite sensitive to her, like the loud sounds of the kart engines. Pascale had taken several ear-protective gear with her, hoping her youngest wouldn't throw a tantrum like Arthur and Charles used to do at the F1 races when they were her age. 

''There he is!'' Hervé exclaimed, grabbing his family's attention. ''Allez, Charles! Keep going! Come on, Charles!'' The man cheered his son on from behind the fences. 

The young teenagers cruise by in their karts, the place drowned in applause and noises from their family and friends as they pass the crowd. The sudden booming voices caused Y/N to get distracted and glance around her instead of screaming for her brother, who was running in first place. 

The toddler whimpered as she glanced back at the track and saw that all the small cars were gone. ''I missed Charlie.'' She sniffled, which rapidly turned into bawling. 

The Leclerc family's focus turned from Charles' P1 to the youngest's sobbing. ''What's wrong, bébé? Do your ears hurt?'' Pascale's impression was that the combination of the loud cheers and engines were too much for the little one's ears. 

Y/N frantically shook her head, making Lorenzo tighten his hold on her. ''I missed Charlie! I didn't say ''Go Charles'', Maman!'' She whined to her mother, calming Pascale's worries that her daughter wasn't in physical pain. 

''It's okay, it's okay! Don't worry about it, chérie.'' Hervé attempted to comfort her, endeared by the girl's concern for not cheering her older brother on. 

Her father's words didn't seem to have any effect on her and she kept crying her eyes out. She reached for the headphones on her head, trying to get them off her head- too much stimulation around her at the moment. 

''Wow! Be careful, you have to keep those on.'' Lorenzo gently scolded her, with Hervé stopping her and keeping the headphones on her head. 

''No! They're too heavy!'' Y/N continued whining, struggling to take them off. 

Pascale watched on, navigating on what she should do as her daughter carried on with her  adorable yet frustrating temper tantrum. ''Chérie, take her with you to the finish line.'' She instructed her husband, pointing to where the person with the chequered flag was waiting. 

Hervé nodded at her, releasing her from Lorenzo's arms. The small girl continued shedding tears, but nestled in her father's arms. ''We're gonna see Charles, okay?'' He asked her, smiling down at her as he walked away from their family members. 

Y/N timidly shook her head up and down, loudly sniffing her stuffy nose. ''Is Cha gonna be angry at me, Papa?'' 

Her father frowned at her question. ''Why would he be angry with you, bébé?'' 

''Because I didn't yell for him, and Lolo and Maman told me to yell for him when he passed us.'' In her mind, her older brother would be upset that she didn't cheer him on. 

The man chuckled, the innocence of his daughter's explanation warming his heart. ''Charles is not angry with you. He knows you're his biggest supporter! We're gonna wait for him at the finish line so you can be the first one to give him a hug.'' Her father told her. 

His assurance that her brother wasn't cross with her, making her stop crying and let out a small smile on her lips. ''Did he win?'' 

''He is currently in first place and Pierre is right behind him so we'll see when he finishes the race.'' Hervé responded to her, giving the side of her head a kiss. 

The pair arrived at the busy part of the track, somehow making it to the front of the fence so they could watch Charles take the chequered flag. ''Make sure you keep your headphones on, bébé- we don't want your ears to hurt.'' He adjusted the gear on her head. 

''Okay, Papa.'' Y/N politely answered, not having a problem with the headphones anymore. ''When does Charles stop driving?'' She asked him, not seeming to have much patience. 

''A few more laps around the track and he's done.'' They had only brought her to the side of the track towards the end of the race, her parents knowing she would otherwise be sleeping through the whole thing and be upset that she missed it. 

The sounds of the engines became slowly louder and louder, indicating the drivers were passing by again. ''He's coming again, Y/N- make sure to yell for him.'' Her father signalled to her. 

This time, the toddler only held her focus on the track, screaming her brother's name as soon as he came into her sight. Hervé and the people around them laughed at the little girl's small voice, finding it adorable as she was the only one screaming for a few seconds. 

''Go, Charles!'' Y/N and her father chorused, cheering on Charles who was still in first position. She rested her face in his neck, having grown shy by her own yelling. 

A few laps later, her brother was the first one to cross the finish line and win the race, with Pierre coming in second behind him. 

Y/N started fussing in her father's arms, wanting to go to Charles and give him a hug. Hervé chuckled at her excitement, but told her to wait until he got out of his kart, and took off his helmet. Pierre's father, Jean-Jacques, joined them, pinching the little girl's cheeks and giving Hervé a handshake. ''Good race.'' He concluded, giving them a nod. 

''A nice battle between them today.'' Hervé confirmed, satisfied with the results and the performances of the two young boys. 

The toddler tugged on his shirt. ''Papa, can I go to Charles now?'' She whined, not a fan of how long it seemed to be taking. 

The two men chuckled at her impatience. Her father glanced at his son and saw that Charles had already climbed out of his kart, and was in the process of removing the helmet off his head. 

''Charles!'' Hervé called for the young boy, waving his free arm at him. The winner of the day spotted his father and sister, his smile becoming wider at the sight of his family. 

Charles tapped Pierre's arm, pointing to his own father. The two boys made their way over still in full adrenaline from the race and their podium finishes. Once they were close enough, Hervé put his daughter down and gave her a light push towards them. 

Y/N jumped over to her brother, her arms already spread. Charles got the message and took a big extra step, embracing his sister and easily picking her up. ''Cha, I yelled for you! Did you hear me?'' She asked him, her arms firmly around him. 

''Yeah, you were very loud!'' He replied, pretending that he had heard her through all the noise even though he hadn't. 

''You were super fast! You went like zoom~'' The little girl imitated the sound of the karts, making both Charles and Pierre laugh. 

''We are supposed to go zoom~'' The French boy impersonated her. 

''Good job, boys! Nicely done, Charles!'' Hervé praised them as they made their way back to where they had been waiting. The rest of their families had also found them and gathered together. 

Charles put his sister down so he could give everyone a hug of his own. After Pascale embraced her son and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, she motioned for Y/N to come to her. ''You gave your brother a hug?'' She said to her daughter as she lifted the girl up. 

''Yes, I was the first one.'' She proudly told her mother, hugging her neck. 

Pascale grinned, relieved her husband was able to calm the girl down. ''Wow! The first one? That's great, chérie.'' 

A tap on Pascale's leg brought her attention from her daughter to her youngest son. ''Maman, can I have ice-cream now?'' Arthur asked her, a pout present on his face. 

''I want ice-cream too!'' Y/N exclaimed upon hearing her brother's question. 

The woman put her daughter down, next to Arthur. ''We're going to eat with Pierre's family after the boys get their trophies. You can get ice-cream as dessert.'' She explained to them. 

''But I want it now!'' Arthur continued. 

''You're gonna have to wait, Tutur.'' Lorenzo told his little brother, chuckling at his impatience. 

The young man noticed the Gasly family, his father and Charles moving to where the trophy ceremony would take place. He glanced at his little siblings. ''Cha is getting his trophy, come on!'' 

Arthur listened to his older brother's words and grabbed his sister's small hand, guiding her to the podium as they walked next to Pascale and Lorenzo. The mother and son duo swooned at the sight of Arthur acting like an older sibling to the young girl. 

''Why do you walk so slow, Y/N? You have to go faster.'' The boy complained, having to reduce his speed so his sister could catch up. 

Lorenzo chuckled. ''She has small legs, Tutur! Go at her pace.'' He reminded his little brother. 

''That's not my fault.'' Arthur answered, matter-of-factly. He kept walking at his pace, ignoring his sister practically running to stay next to him. 

''Thur!'' Lorenzo stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. The older one then focused on the toddler and picked her up, not wanting her to grow tired from simply walking. ''Alright, let's go.'' 

The podium ceremony wasn't something too extravagant. They called out the names of the top three and handed the winners their trophies, often with some flowers as well. 

As the families waited for the presentations to start, Charles grabbed his dad's attention. ''What is it, Cha?'' He asked his son. 

''Can I bring Y/N with me on the podium?'' 

Charles had done it countless times when Arthur was younger and he had seen many other winners bring their siblings up on the podium with them- he wanted to include his little sister somehow. 

Hervé smiled, touched by his son's sentiment. ''That's okay with me, but ask your mother to be sure.'' He knew Pascale wouldn't have a problem with it, but he didn't want to surprise his wife with Charles suddenly taking their daughter with him. 

Upon hearing his father's answer, Charles walked over to his mother. ''Maman,'' he tapped her waist, having her bow down to be on the same level as him, ''can I bring Y/N with me on the podium? Papa says it's okay.'' 

Pascale glanced at her daughter for a few seconds, checking if she still had energy left. ''Of course, but be careful, okay? She's small.'' She agreed, nodding at Hervé who was looking at them. 

''Thank you.'' Charles thanked her, skipping back to his father. 

The mother of the family approached her oldest and youngest child, gently grabbing his shoulder. ''Ma petite, Cha wants to take you on the podium with him. Isn't that fun?'' 

The youngest's mouth made an o-shape, bewildered by the news. ''Really? Wow!'' 

''Yes! So let's put you down.'' Lorenzo kneeled, letting his little sister stand on her own two feet. As soon as she was stable on the ground, she ran off to Charles. 

''Cha Cha!'' Y/N exclaimed, catching her brother's attention. ''I'm going on podium with you.'' 

''I know! Just follow me, okay? I'll help you.'' He told her, not wanting her to get distracted and do something she shouldn't do. 

''Okay!'' She gave her brother a thumbs up with a bright smile. 

It didn't take long for the various ceremonies to start, but the Leclerc Family had to wait until the end since Charles participated in the oldest age category at the competition. 

''In second place, we have Pierre Gasly of France! Well done, Pierre!'' The presenter said into the microphone, inviting the French boy onto the podium. 

The family clapped for him as he strutted over to the second step, accepting the trophy and flowers he was handed. 

''And our winner of the day is Charles Leclerc of Monaco! Congratulations, Charles!'' 

The race winner grabbed his sister's hand, and unlike Arthur, walked on her pace to the podium so she wouldn't have to run next to him. He momentarily let go of her hand as the presenter handed over his trophy and flowers. Charles gave the trophy to Y/N, being less heavy than the bouquet of flowers. 

Charles stepped onto the top step with ease, meanwhile his baby sister struggled with her small legs to even get onto the third step. 

Pierre immediately noticed. He placed his trophy and flowers on the ground, and signalled to the girl to walk over to him. He picked her up and placed her next to Charles, who thanked his friend for helping his sister out. 

The Monégasque crouched down. ''Y/N, look at Maman.'' Charles pointed at their mother, who had a big smile on her face as she held her camera. Upon seeing Pascale smile, Little Leclerc mirrored her mother's expression- proud of the trophy she was holding, despite it being her brother's. 

The rest of the family watched on fondly, the sight of the small girl swooning everyone. ''She's going to steal that trophy from his room.'' Lorenzo told Hervé, chuckling at the way his baby sibling was holding onto the plastic prize. 

''Charles will let her.'' The patriarch grinned, knowing his son would take the trophy away from her. 

After a few minutes of posing for pictures, the ceremony was done and they made their way back to their families. 

''Pierre, you are a gentleman.'' Pascale complimented the young boy, ruffling his hair. 

He shyly glanced down at the praise. ''No problem.'' Pierre brushed off, his mother pinching his reddened cheek. 

The giddy toddler jumped in Lorenzo's arms, still a strong hold on Charles's trophy. ''Look what Cha gave me, Lolo.'' She showed the prize off to her brother. 

''Wow! You have a trophy? How cool!'' Lorenzo told her, excitedly. 

''Can we get ice-cream now, please?'' Arthur whined, having everyone look at the young boy. There was an adorable, impatient tone to his voice, making both families smile at him. 

The parents all glanced at one another, nodding in silent agreement that they should start packing up, and go have dinner. 

''I'm going to get 5 scoops!'' Arthur declared. 

''I'm going to get 6 then!'' His sister one-upped him, mischief written all over her face. 

''Y/N gets 2. Arthur gets 3, and Charles and Pierre will get to choose since they got a podium together.'' Hervé stated, chuckling at his two youngest's disappointed faces. 

The little girl huffed. ''But Papa, I want 6!'' 

''You're like 6 scoops tall, how are you gonna eat all of that?'' 

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[redroomreflections]

Before She Cheats Part 4 - The Final Part

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha attempts to talk with Cara after she and R break the news they're divorcing.

The Loud House Universe

note: more angst

Before she cheats part 4

w/c:2k

It's night now and Cara hasn't come out of her bedroom. You'd put the children to bed separately and now it was time to say goodnight. You didn't bother saying anything to Natasha. You headed into your office, softly closing the door behind you, to get an ounce of alone time. Natasha stood at the top of the stairs, debating whether to go up there and talk to Cara. She's not sure how to fix this. She's not sure how to make things better between them. She understands it. Truly she does. Cheating on you wasn't something she did intending to hurt you. Although, the alternative would have been better. The children's reactions to what she'd done would be forever etched into her brain.

Finally, with a deep breath, Natasha makes a decision. She won't just leave Cara without saying goodbye. She trails up the stairs, her heart heavy, before she walks over to the bedroom where light is still shining underneath the hinges.

Natasha knocks, but Cara doesn't respond.

"Cara, honey?" Natasha's voice is small. She opens the door, finding the teen curled up in her bed with her headphones in. Natasha can't help but smile at the sight of her daughter. Even through her anger and frustration, her baby is still here. Cara doesn't move. She's not asleep yet. It's like she can feel her presence in the room.

"I don't want you here," Cara says dejectedly. Her eyes never look up from the book she's been reading. As a spy, it's in Natasha to notice she hadn't been reading at all. She's simply staring at the pages, not absorbing anything.

"I know," Natasha admits. "But, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Goodbye," Cara spits.

"Cara,"

"Goodnight, Natasha," She corrects.

"It's Mama,"

"No, it's not," Cara shakes her head. She finally puts the book down and meets Natasha's eyes. "You're not my mom anymore. My mom wouldn't do what you did. She wouldn't betray our family."

"Cara,"

"Leave me alone," Cara asks. She pulls the blankets up a little further.

"I know you're angry..." Natasha begins. That's where she fumbles. What is she supposed to say? How is she supposed to make this up to her? To the other children. To you?

"I don't wanna hear anything you have to say," Cara rolls over, facing the opposite way.

"I know,"

"Then leave."

"I'm not leaving without saying goodbye," Natasha shakes her head.

"You already said it," Cara shouts. She's mindful that her siblings may be sleeping. "I told you I don't want to talk about this anymore. Why can't you just respect that?"

"Cara, I'm sorry," Natasha offers. She knows it's not enough.

"You're a fucking cheater," Cara accuses.

"I know," Natasha's eyes water.

"You don't even care," Cara frowns. "I want you to go. Go, get out of my room." Cara stands and for a moment, Natasha doesn't recognize the child she's looking at. Cara has a history of outbursts and minimal violence, but it's never been directed towards either of you.

"Cara, no, stop," Natasha warns.

"Go."

"I'm not going anywhere." Natasha's voice raises. She takes a deep breath and tries again. "We aren't fighting."

"What if I want to?" Cara sizes her up.

"Don't," Natasha shakes her head.

"Mom wouldn't let you just walk away like this,"

"Mom isn't here," Natasha points out.

"She's downstairs," Cara nods.

"I know," Natasha nods again. "Tell me what you're feeling. I can take it."

"I hate you," Cara spits.

Natasha remains silent. Even when Cara's words are followed by rough pushes against her body. She doesn't back down. She also doesn't allow Cara to hit her either.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," Cara shouts. "You fucked some random chick and ruined everything."

"Cara, that's enough," Natasha tries.

"You made my brother cry," Cara shouts.

"I know,"

"You made Charlie have an anxiety attack," Cara's voice raises. "She's too little. She can't handle stuff like that."

"I'm aware." Natasha's jaw clenches.

"You did that. You did that. You did that," Cara begins to repeat. "You did that." She shoves her mother again and again. She pushes her and Natasha lets her. "You did that." Cara slams her fists into Natasha's chest. Natasha lets her.

"Mom wouldn't just let me punch her," Cara says.

"What do you suggest I do? If it's making you feel better," Natasha weighs the options. "Is it making you feel better?"

"No," Cara shakes her head. She steps back and takes a deep breath. Her shoulders heave and her eyes are red. Tears pour down her cheeks. For a moment, Natasha can tell she wants to apologize but she holds it in.

"You're so mean," Cara cries.

"I know."

"You ruined everything,"

"I did," Natasha nods.

"I hate you," Cara crosses her arms over her chest.

"I know,"

"Stop saying that,"

"You are entitled to your feelings. You have a right to feel how you feel," Natasha tells her. "You have a right to be angry and you have a right to express your anger."

"What if I don't want to," Cara asks. "What if I don't want to fight you? What if I just want you to go away and never come back?"

"I can't do that,"

"Well, I can't forgive you." Cara frowns. "You hurt my mom. You broke her heart. I can see it. I've seen it all week and I didn't say anything but you made her different. She's not the same. You're not the same to me."

"What can I do?" Natasha tries.

"Nothing," Cara shakes her head. "There's nothing. You did this. I don't want you in my room anymore."

"Cara, wait,"

"I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving until you calm down," Natasha reasons.

"I am calm."

"This isn't calm." Natasha looks her over.

"I'm calm," Cara repeats. "I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm calm." Cara begins to pace with her fists balled up. "You won't even listen to me."

"Of course, I'm listening,"

"You're not. You're just gonna stand there and let me yell at you."

"You can't yell at your mom," Natasha reminds her. "I know you, Cara. If you're not directing it at me it will go to her and she doesn't deserve that."

"You don't get to decide what she deserves," Cara shakes her head. "You threw all of that out of the window. Unlike you, I would never hurt her."

"Cara,"

"That's what she is now. My mom. Mine. She's nothing to you. You have no claim on her. You gave that up when you cheated."

"I'm still her wife."

"You don't deserve her. You're disgusting. You're a terrible person."

"You're right,"

"Stop saying that," Cara shakes her head.

"Okay,"

"Get out,"

"I can't do that."

Cara lets out a throaty scream from deep within her. It's an angry scream.

"I'll give you some some space on one condition," Natasha relents.

"I want space," Cara nods.

"You have to promise not to hit or yell at your mother."

"I told you I wouldn't you don't listen," Cara whines. She seems so much smaller now.

Natasha makes the slightest movement to leave and Cara is ranting again.

"You promised I was safe here," She began. "You promised me we were a family. When I got adopted you promised so many things and you just lied about it all."

"That's still true," Natasha assured her. “I didn’t lie.”

"How could you just throw us away? Do you not love me?"

"I love you very much,"

"Then how could you hurt Mom and me and James and Charlie and Luke and Paige," Cara demands. She defeatedly sits atop her bed. She truly doesn't understand. She's a child.She’s still a child that wants her family. 

"I can't fix it,"

"No, because you did it."

"Yes,"

"You can't fix it because you're a liar. You're a bad person."

"I am," Natasha agrees.

"Get out,"

"Okay," Natasha relents. She turns to leave, walking back towards the door. She didn't want to leave her like this. She knew it wouldn't get better. Natasha turns to find you in the doorway. Your face is free of makeup and freshly washed. Your eyes are slightly red but you look serene and calm. How much of this had you heard?

"I can stay if you need,"

"I said leave," Cara cries.

"Cara," You take a deep breath and slowly step into the room.

"Mom, can you get her out of here," Cara pleads. "I don't want her here anymore." Natasha moves to hold onto her. She truly doesn't want to leave her like this.

"Natasha, you've done enough," You warn.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "I will be at the compound. I will come tomorrow to take the kids to school."

"We don't need you," Cara's voice cracks.

"I understand," Natasha says. "But I will still be here for you."

"Fuck off," Cara shouts. 

This time Natasha listens. She walks out of the room and out of your life. Not for good. No, she'd be back. She loves her children too much to leave them. Even after Cara has begged her to go. You redirect your attention to Cara. "I want it to stop hurting. I hate her."

"I know, baby," You grab a hold of her and pull her into bed to sit beside you.

"How do I make it stop?"

"I wish I could tell you," You kiss her forehead. "I need you to calm down. I know you're upset. We can talk about all of it, but I need you to calm down."

"How are you okay? She cheated on you. She broke up our family." Cara presses her face into your chest. She needs that extra comfort.

"I know, sweetheart," You stroke her hair. "I'm not okay. Trust me, I'm not. For you, for your sisters and brothers, I have to be. Eventually, it will hurt less."

"Do you promise,"

"It won't go away, but it will get easier," You tell her. "I will always love her. That will never change. It's going to be okay."

"Why aren't you mad?" Cara wonders.

"I'm furious," You assure her.

"Then why did you let her in here?"

"Because she wanted to say goodbye,"

"She doesn't deserve to,"

"I know," You soothe her with a kiss on her head.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Whatever you guys want,"

"Why don't you hate her too?"

"I don't think I ever could," You confess.

"Why?"

"You can't choose who you love," You tell her.

"If you could go back in time, would you still love her?"

"I would," You hesitate. "It brought me you. It brought me the others. It brought me so much happiness. It gave me my life."

"Even if you knew she'd hurt you?"

"I don't know," You shake your head.

"I wish she didn't do that," Cara wipes her tears away. "Sex is so confusing. Sex is supposed to be with someone you love. I know I don't know everything but it's supposed to be all of these things and she just did that with some random woman and..." Cara sniffles. "I don't understand any of this. I don't understand it but I don't want to see her. I'll take the train to school. I don't want to be around her."

"I won't force you," You reply.

"She's not my mama," Cara shakes her head. Her tears flow down her cheeks.

"She's still yours, baby,"

"She's not."

"She is," You argue. God, you hate yourself for defending her right now. "She is and she loves you. Whatever is happening between us isn't on you to figure out or hurt over. You can be angry but I don't want you to harbor this."

"How are you not mad at her?"

"I am,"

"But,"

"It doesn't make sense to you. It's okay. I need you to believe me when I tell you this," You press a kiss against her forehead. "Your Mama loves you."

"She doesn't."

"She does," You insist.

"Can we not talk about her," Cara sniffles.

"That's fine, baby," You wrap your arms around her, pulling her as close as possible. You could only hope that Natasha is satisfied with the lives she shattered. 

[artdcnaldson]

and when we move on (we dont) and get a new boyfriend and get engaged all within the span of six months and suddenly art finds himself at your engagement party and you look happy and he thinks maybe he imagined his importance to you - maybe he had it wrong and he was the fleeting obsession. how else are you able to move on so quickly? he's miserable but he still plucks up the courage to come congratulate you even if he doesn't mean a word of it. says, "you look beautiful - honestly." just because, well you do.

and its then that your mask slips - you look like art punched you - not those slaps you'd both traded in the past - but like he'd genuinely punched you in the gut. wounded ane pained like he'd just said the most awful thing in the world to you. and your hands tremble when you hand him your champagne glass and mumble "im sorry - excuse me -"

you have to be somewhere alone. suddenly constricted and panting and you find and alcove to lean against and you feel tears burn your eyes and even worse still, a presence at your back - "hey, what -" because of course its him, of course it is. "what's wrong - what did i say -"

you could laugh. you could laugh if a sob wasn't cut off in your throat. you hate him. on your engagement day. the nerve to say you were beautiful. with those genuine eyes and soft expression - like he meant it. like he always thought you were.

he breaks your heart and and you try to move on - you let yourself drown in the next man that shows you attention because arts words follow you everywhere - how you're not the marriage type - well, your fiance wanted you. he wanted you and that had to be enough because if you remained alone and unwanted you think you'd die from the pain of it -

so for him to say something like that now - all of the sudden -

"why do you hate me? i left you alone, didn't i? patricks still your friend. you have everything you wanted - I just want to move on, art. I just want to be wanted - why are you here?"

GODDDDD your mind <3

You know it’s sudden— everyone knows it’s sudden. But you’re the only one who knows why you rushed into it so intensely. Why, after six months with someone, you agreed to marry someone who you hardly even knew.

You knew the basics— Charlie wanted to be a college professor. His mother was filthy fucking rich, old money, and she liked that you came from an affluent background. He enjoyed skiing, and watching tennis, and he did rowing in high school. He was allergic to cats. He liked ordering raw oysters and slurping them down embarrassingly loud at restaurants. He never ordered for you, always paid the bill, never pushed you past a heavy makeout session on the couch.

Because you couldn’t go past that anymore. You couldn’t be easy, couldn’t give it up. You had to be the type of girl someone would marry, you had to be girlfriend material, and wife material, and mother material.

Charlie wanted to get married, wanted a big family, and you checked those boxes for him. You’d never have to want for anything, he’d pamper you and keep you spoiled like you were used to. He was strawberry blonde like Art, but his smile was more refined and practiced, and you wish it wasn’t. When he proposed you said yes, and cried tears that were supposed to be happy, but how could you know for sure?

Art shows up to the engagement party as Patrick’s plus one, and you feel dizzy. But you have to be normal— you can’t give anything away. You just… try to avoid him. When he starts gravitating your way, you find an excuse to talk to someone else, or make your way into the kitchen for a fresh drink. Anything to stay away, because you can’t fucking see him. You can’t do that right now, or ever.

But of course he finds a way— he’s too polite or maybe he’s just too cruel to leave the party without offering a congratulations. You’re cornered like prey, grip so tight on the stem of your champagne flute that you’re worried it’ll snap.

And he doesn’t say congratulations. He just looks at you with a genuine, completely earnest smile and says, “You look really beautiful. He’s really lucky.”

You feel your heart seize in your chest, like someone’s grabbed it and squeezed viciously. The corners of your mouth twitch downwards, but you fight it and bring a polite, practiced smile to your lips. “Could you excuse me for a second?”

He looks confused as you put your glass in his hand, as you close his fingers around it so he doesn’t drop the expensive crystalware. As soon as you’re sure he has it, you’re weaving through the many guests to find solitude. Most of them are Charlie’s friends, few are your acquaintances— people that would just as soon pray on your downfall as they would offer a sweet congratulations.

You slip into the hallway feeling suffocated, drawing quick breaths through your nose until you tuck yourself away in a nicely tucked away alcove and take a slow, steadying breath.

But Art lingers at the edge of your vision, and you want to just cry and cry as he gets closer, as he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, what…” his brow furrows, he searches your face for some sort of clue, something to help him understand. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

The noise you let out is strangled, almost animal. You look at him and see that he means it, he doesn’t fucking know, he doesn’t understand. Maybe he just can’t.

“I can’t believe you’re—“ your voice cracks and you look away from him. You can’t stand to see that kicked puppy expression, the earnest concern. You can’t fucking look at it. “And after everything?”

Charlie is a good man. Charlie makes you happy, or he can one day, with time and distance. And he sees you as someone he wants to spend his life with. Isn’t that enough? Why is Art trying to spoil it for you when the alternative is proving him right? That would kill you. You’d rather just die.

“I was just…” he trails off, turns your face toward him with two fingers against your chin. The softest he’s ever touched you, and it feels so foreign and wrong that it shatters something inside that you thought you’d fully repaired. “I thought you’d want to know. That I still think about you, that I want you to be happy.”

Tears spill down your cheek, inky and black from your mascara. “You’re so fucking mean, Art.” Your voice is weak as you look at him. He drops his hand back to your side, but stays close, so close you’re reminded of how intoxicating his presence can be. “Why are you doing this to me? Huh? I did what you asked and I left you alone. And I didn’t tell Patrick, because I didn’t want to hurt you. Why isn’t that enough? Why are you trying to spoil this for me?”

Confusion and hurt flashes across his features. Is that what you thought he wanted? For you to really leave him alone? He didn’t want that, it nearly fucking killed him. He spent the end of senior year tanking in tournaments, he hardly slept.

Patrick had told you about Art floundering, and it made you sick. You’d actually laid in bed crying about it, wracked with guilt. You thought it was all because of you, because you’d distracted him and ruined him.

It felt like he was there only to remind you that you were poison. That you would do the same to the sweet boy just through a set of double doors as you had done to him. But you wouldn’t. You’d never do that again.

“Charlie wants me. I’ve been his girlfriend for only a few months and he already wants to marry me,” your wavers pathetically as you think back to what Art had said back home. The prospect that he could be right was fucking terrifying, but you’d left that girl behind. “He could be the only one who wants me like this. So why are you trying to show up to my engagement party and look at me like you— like—“

You can’t say it, but he knows. He looks at you and he knows. You wince as he sinks to his knees in front of you, tears filling your eyes. Because his hands slide up your calves, settle on the back of your thighs.

He kisses your knee, softly, reverently, looks up at you with soft, desperate eyes. You sigh softly as his lips trail up, skimming along your soft thighs. You lean back, pressing against the wall, feeling yourself melt for him.

“Art,” you gasp weakly. “You can’t. We— we can’t.” You know you’re speaking the truth, but your words and your actions aren’t aligned. Your fingers card into his hair, and your entire body lights up when you finally touch him again.

It aches in your chest— longing and hurt and love and hatred. You never felt as much as you do with him. Charlie doesn’t light up that part of you the way Art does. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it needs to be hidden away, cut off like a rotting limb.

His lips press to the spot just beneath your hem, and he peers up at you. “Let me.”

Not a question. A plea. Let him.

Let him what? Love you? Touch you? Let him eat you out in the shadows of a hotel hallway? Let him back in? Let him have you? Let him be yours to worship again?

“Okay,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.” You repeat, just to make sure you’re certain. Of what, you don’t know.

His head slips beneath the skirt of your dress, and you moan softly at the press of his lips over your panties. Soft, sweet kisses over the fabric that make you open up for him. You feel need dripping from your center, longing.

You haven’t been touched since him— not that he’d ever actually tried. But having him touch you, kiss you… it feels like ice melting.

He tugs your panties to the side, mouths at your cunt like he’s kissing it. Like he’s kissing you. You moan softly, let your head knock against the wall.

“Art—“ you practically sob. His tongue parts you, laps at you from your dripping entrance to your clit. He moans and nuzzles closer, lets his nose rub against your clit as he presses his tongue inside of you. He squeezes at your thighs, dimples the plush flesh there.

You’re so sensitive— it’s a combination of months of barely even touching yourself, of missing him, of craving him. You’re dripping onto his tongue, moaning softly. You can’t manage more than soft gasps of his name, pleas for more— Art Art Art Art Art.

He draws your orgasm out easily, like it belongs to him. Laps at your release, works you through it until your knees are shaking. He pulls back, mouth glistening with your release.

He stays on his knees, presses another soft kiss to your thighs, and another, over and over again. Soft, reverent, tender. He looks up at you so earnestly, so desperately, that you feel a sob stick in your throat.

“I need to get back,” you say suddenly, when the ache in your chest is too much to bear. “Charlie’s probably wondering… you know— I’ve been gone too long.”

“Charlie?” Art asks, his voice weak, pathetic. He’s still looking up at you from his knees, and he has to scramble up when you start walking towards the women’s bathroom to tidy your makeup. “Why are you doing this?“

He could be asking anything. You answer what you think he needs to hear, what h ended a to know. “He’s going to be a good husband, Art. He’s always sweet, and he’s never… he doesn’t just see me like— like what you see.” You take a steadying breath. “What you said to me back home was true, I know that now. But I can’t just be alone. It’ll kill me.”

You pause, let your lip twitch into a sad smile. “Just please leave me alone, Art.”

You slip into the bathroom, he hears you click the door locked so you can’t follow. Not like last time. When he returns to the party, he drinks three more glasses of champagne. He leaves before Charlie gives a toast to you, to your impending marriage. He can’t fucking stomach it.

[lis-likes-fics]

A Deal’s a Deal (Pt. 2)

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 10.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, spoilers, swearing, smoking, death, angst, phone sex, masturbation, age gap (Tommy is late 30s, Reader is late 20s), oral (f!receiving), heavy praise, breeding kink, Tommy is nice... A/N: So I decided to write a second part to show a completely different side of Tommy bc of course. This is not filthy as it is angsty. This contains spoilers for seasons 4 and 5 if you have not already watched them. I hope you enjoy this part, I put a lot of time into it! Thank you!

You wrapped Tommy’s jacket around you, draping it over your shoulders and admiring the weight of his scent wrapped around you. He’d just left you in the bedroom, left only in a bedgown as you waited for him to return to you after dealing with business that had shown up on the front lawn. But you were curious.

As you ventured toward the window, where the blaring lights from the car out front were shining through, even from the height of the first floor, you looked over the chaos of muffled shouts and cries. You tilted your head as you continued to quietly observe, trying to figure out who it was causing such a disturbance here so late in the night.

When you realised that you recognised the person yelling at Tommy, you were out of the door in seconds, panicked as you rushed through the hall and down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, you caught Charlie trying to peek out of the door in search of the situation which had caught his attention.

You knelt in front of him, offering a kind smile as you focused his attention on you. “Hey, Charlie,” you said in a sticky sweet voice. “Why don’t you come sit down while I go see what your father is up to, eh?”

He looked at you, only half interested. “Screaming,” he spoke in his tiny voice, referring to the men arguing outside.

“I know. Isn’t it just so annoying?” You stood and took his hand, leading him away until you could hand him off to a freshly woken Mary to take elsewhere. With Charlie out of the way, patting his head as he departed, you went back to the front door. You didn’t leave yet, choosing to stay there with the gun hidden underneath the table by the door and watch the men argue.

Aberama looked a mess, covered in blood and sweat. He was hysterical, and you could not understand a single word he was saying. Johnny Dogs was by the car, just as hurt as your father seemed to be, though less frantic as he clutched his side in pain. All you could hear were threats, loud, desperate threats spouting from Aberama’s mouth in Johnny’s direction garbled by anger and something deeper.

“Listen to me!” Tommy shouted, trying to catch his attention as he cradled his head and attempted to hold him still to get him to calm down. He forced him to look at him as he spoke.

“How can a one-armed man avenge the death of his son, eh?”

Your heart dropped in your chest and then leapt to your throat. The ground shook and the air stood still. You swallowed hard, wide eyed and not entirely sure you were still breathing. The word came out of your mouth but it was muffled in your ears as you took a step out of the door with breath caught in your lungs.

“Dad?”

Everything stopped as they all turned their gazes on you, a variety of emotions crossing their faces before settling on sudden realisation. You stared your father in the eye, ignoring the sting of tears as you took it all in—the suffocation, the shock. When did the world become so blurry?

Aberama looked away from you, his grief deepening as he turned his gaze back on Tommy with a new kind of rage. “They crucified my son…” he huffed, “for you.”

You felt paralysed as you stood there, helpless to find a way to fix all of this. You were supposed to fix it. You were the older sister, the family’s caretaker. You had to fix it, but you didn’t know how.

You were ripped from your spiral at the struggling grunts your father made breaking away from Tommy and grabbing the firearm discarded on the ground. He stumbled away to stand between you and Tommy, pointing the gun right at him. “You stay away from my fucking daughter!” he shrieked.

The blasting sounds of bullets shot into the air and stopped everything. You hadn’t even realised you were the gun shooting until words were leaving your mouth and you felt the tingling of blood leaving your hand from being held in the air for so long.

“Put down the gun, Dad,” you said, calmly at first as you stared him down with eyes that had not yet caught up to your body.

He looked at you and mumbled your name, nearly defeated as he watched you. The next words to leave your mouth were not so calm as they scratch at your throat with the force you used to scream them and aimed your gun at Aberema with an anger to be reckoned with.

“I told you to put down the fucking gun or I’ll shoot it out of your hands!”

He hesitated, taking you in before obliging. Slowly, he set the gun down and put his hands up to show peace. You didn’t lower your own weapon, though your hands shook and your jaw trembled with barely contained tears. Everyone stood still and watched you try not to unravel.

You took in a shaky breath. “Yes or no…” Your sigh was watery as you closed your eyes to steady yourself before looking back at your father. You licked your lips, “...Is my little brother dead?”

Aberama’s hands fell to his sides, swinging there as he let them go limp. His gaze broke from yours. He was slow to respond, not quite present but not as dazed as part of him wished to be. His voice was low, nearly inaudible. He opened his mouth, struggling to speak, “...Yes.”

You closed your eyes and gaze a silent sob one breath to escape. The tears that had been piling in your eyes finally slipped out. One, two, three slid down your chin and dripped to the gravel beneath your feet. You inhaled again, composing yourself again.

“Are my sisters safe?” you asked.

His eyes could only meet yours for a half second. “They’re with family.”

“Do they know?”

“Not yet.”

The sound of gravel crunching under someone’s shoes has you turning toward the sound with the precision of a trained marksman as you aim the barrel of the gun at Tommy, glaring at him trying to come nearer to you.

“Tommy, I swear to God, if you come any closer, I’ll fucking shoot you.”

He assessed you, taking in your anger, your pain, and deciding from there whether your words were empty. With another step, you gripped the gun tighter, but made no move with the trigger. He approached you slowly, testing you and your threat. By the time he was standing in front of you, you had done nothing but stare at him with a shaky grasp and breath. He placed his hand on the gun, pushing it down and snatching it from your hands. Emptying the barrel, his eyes didn’t leave yours as you watched him limply.

When his arms wrapped around you, the fire in your bones ignited. You were so much like your father in that way—your brother, too—a fighter, all of you. You fought him, you kicked and screamed and punched as you tried to get him to get off of you. Your brother was dead, your baby brother was gone, and you could never get him back and Tommy was standing here trying to hold you to him when you could never hold your brother again?

The touch was much too warm, the confinement stifling. You couldn't breathe, couldn't get the air to your lungs as your gasps made your throat hoarse and rough. The fight left so quickly as Tommy endured against your fight, keeping you locked in his arms until your anger relinquished and you dissolved into nothing but sobs into his shoulder. He held you as you stopped screaming, held you as the tears soaked his clothes. He held you as you trembled, too exhausted to keep fighting. Your legs were on the verge of giving out. He was the only thing to hold you up as you broke down against him.

“He’s dead, Tom,” you sobbed, finally putting your arms around him and holding him tighter than you ever have, your nails digging into him for something to hold on to. “He’s fucking dead. My baby brother’s dead.”

“I know, I know,” he shushed. Tommy cradled you as you rambled, trying to soften your cries as he listened and felt your sentiment too close to heart. The wounds of his own little brother’s death burned in his chest, and he hated you going through it as well. “I’m sorry about your brother. Really, I am.”

Your hands tightened around him, your nails digging deeper until your eyes met your father’s, watching the both of you with a look you couldn’t identify. Your grip on Tommy loosened, and you remembered yourself—the oldest, the caretaker, the voice of reason among voices pleading reparation and revenge. You let go of him, parting with a new numbness as he watched the anger, the emotional agony, disappear into a stone cold mask you’d pulled over your face to offer your father in accompaniment of his pain.

“I need to be with my family,” you said after a moment, your voice already sore and scratchy, your words full of frail strength.

Tommy watched you walk away from him and into your father’s arms, laying your chin on his shoulder as he pulled an arm around your back and held you. You didn’t reciprocate, you couldn’t. Not right now. Aberama held onto you for strength, and Tommy felt like he could see it draining from you by the way your shoulders began to sag.

Anerama’s cold, fiery gaze bore into Tommy, one full of despair and ruthlessness. Tommy sighed, raising a finger toward him. “If you want to take on the Billy Boys, you need me alive,” he warned, looking between the both of you with a variety of thoughts flashing in his head. “Everyone fucking needs me.”

You pulled away from your father, placing your hand on his shoulders and dragging your gaze along him. He was hurt. So was Johnny Dogs. You needed to take care of them. “I’m calling an ambulance,” you said, your voice a monotone droll of duty first. “Hold on, both of you.”

You supported your father’s arm around your shoulders, pulling him into the house to get him cared for as Tommy moved to do the same with Johnny.

~

Flames rose high, making the air around it dance from the heat and life rising with it. Your sisters, tucked under each of your arms, clung to you as they watched their brother's wagon burn, reduced to ash and dust of a life once lived.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched the fire rise and rise, sucking the tears back in as you remained strong for your grieving sisters. You turned your chin, resting it atop the youngest's head. You glanced away from the fire, and your eyes caught a much darker figure lingering further from the scene, cap pulled over his head and cigarette between his lips as he watched you.

You both watched each other for a moment, neither moving or looking away. By the time your eyes were averted, you'd already made your decision.

When the fire had not roared so wildly and your sisters' quiet sobs were gentler tears, you passed them over to one of your aunts watching the fire burn. Your father was still recovering in the hospital, too hurt to move too far from the bed but too upset to sleep as he sat in bed and watched the time that marked as his son's funeral ticked away minute by minute. With a nod, she gestured you away to take care of them for the moment while you spoke with your mysterious visitor.

Tommy Shelby stood silently where he was as you joined his side. Neither of you looked at one another, your eyes still fixated on the flames. It was silent for a while. You stuffed your hand in the pocket of your jacket and hugged it close for a comfort you felt selfish for wanting.

"They killed him."

Your voice was nearly strained as you spoke, quiet and nearly raspy with the overuse of crying—or keeping from crying—over the past week. You were still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that it had been the first week in the rest of your life without your baby brother.

Tommy cleared his throat, taking his cigarette from his lips. He rolled it between his fingers, considering a response before he gave it. "Your brother will be avenged, Y/N." He flicked it away into the grass, stomping on it with the tip of his shoe to put it out. "I promise you that."

You sighed, late to a reply as you shook your head at his promise to you. "Do what you want, Tommy." Your eyes strayed where they always had, right back to your sisters huddling to your aunt, stricken with grief. You shook your head again turning to Tommy as you swallowed thickly. "But don't make me lose any more family. My sister's stay safe, my father's life or death will be left to his hands or mine."

He turned to you, tilting his head and raising a brow. "You don't want me to keep him alive?"

You looked down at his shoes, thinking for a moment to get your thoughts in order from the messy hurricane they had been in the past week. "Before Bonnie died, I was dreamin' of a big, black bird. Then he did die, and I thought, 'This was it. It got what it wanted, now it'll leave us alone.' But when I managed to sleep that night… that bird was staring me down, much bigger and much louder than before."

You let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself before you continued. "Someone is goin' to die again, Tom." You nearly shuddered at the idea, meeting his gaze. "Don't let it be my sisters."

Tommy looked over you—your well-hidden grief of concealed red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips, messy hair. You were so good at hiding it all, he realised, well-versed in composed disposition.

But you couldn't hide all that pain from him. Reading you was like looking in a mirror.

He took a small step closer and reached down to brush your fingers with his, swiping his thumb over the back of your knuckles momentarily before letting go of you and nodding. "Your sisters will be safe. You have my word." He looked your face up and down. "No black bird will come for them."

You stared at him and blinked once. With a short nod, you looked away from the intensity of his eyes. He lingered there for a moment, your warmth mixing together for a few seconds in the cool air. Without a word, he turned to leave you.

He'd gotten a few steps away before you spoke into the air. "Tommy."

He looked back at you again, waiting expectantly for you to continue.

You swallowed hard. "Stay alive."

His eyes bore into your own, staring as he processed your words. He began walking back over to you, digging his hand in his pocket as he invaded your space. He took your hand in his big palm, setting something in your own and closing your fingers around it before you could see what it was judging the object only by the feel of it in your hand.

He turned and left, didn't spare a single word as he strayed from you.

You opened your hand and stared down at the penny he'd left you with, finding a ghost of a smile in your mind but not yet on your lips as you turned around to rejoin your sisters.

-

Things changed after that. With your brother gone, you realised all too suddenly how fragile this family of yours was.

Throwing yourself into work and family was the easiest part. Your kids at the school were important to you, your sisters even more so. The children kept you tender, kept you from hardening with the loss of your brother as you held on tight to your joy in life. Your sisters, impossibly dearer to you now, were cherished and loved and you made sure of you. The older of the two got married and was working on her first baby. The younger was joining you as a teacher, which meant she stayed closer to you. That made you very happy.

The hard part was separating from Tommy.

It wasn't intentional. Your late nights with him became more and more scarce as time went on. Being with Tommy, basking in the throes of passion with him during the darkest parts of the night, wrapped in his bedsheets and screaming his name, was a joy you couldn't match with anything else in your life. He was a guilty pleasure, an escape from reality that allowed you to fulfil the darkest desires within your heart that could not be found anywhere else.

You'd tried, once or twice, to push Tommy from your mind by finding another man. You were known to be Gold's prettiest daughter, there were men lining up to have a chance with you, but they were frightened off of it when Tommy Shelby had staked a claim. Now that he wasn't so dominant in your life, they had chances.

And you gave a couple of them chances—you needed someone else, someone safer. But he had his claws so deep inside of you, buried in your body and bitten into your flesh, like he had fired that bullet and left himself permanently marked in your soul.

There was no man like Thomas Shelby.

Slowly losing him was not just a physical thing, though. You hadn't realised how deeply you'd attached yourself to him until he wasn't around as much as he used to be—especially when he'd gone away to America on business. Finding excuses to see him every once in a while included your father meeting him for business and you following after, you wandering into the pub some evenings when you were feeling especially lonely (or simply just missing him) on the off chance that you just might find him there…him calling you late at night desiring you in his bed once more…

He'd called you one night.

You were just getting ready to go to bed, muscles aching and feet sore from working. Just as you were pulling the comforter from your bed, the trilling ring from the telephone screamed through the night air. You sighed, a tired moan slipping from your throat as you dragged yourself to answer.

You picked it up, a soft answer of your name through the line encouraging the person to speak. He hadn't realised how much he missed the sound of your voice until he'd heard it.

"Hello, Miss Gold," he said, his voice deeper, rougher than usual.

You held your breath and felt the sparks of delight in your chest at the sound of his voice. "Tommy…" you breathed, holding the phone closer and sinking into your chair.

"Did you miss me?" he asked. He sounded cocky. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke to you.

You nodded gently. "I still do…" He hummed, and the sound made you shudder. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your wall. "It's the early hours of the morning for you, isn't it? The sun isn't even up yet. You should be asleep, darling."

He hummed again. "Sleep was never really my friend."

You breathed a sigh. "You sound like you just woke up… Was it a nightmare, Tom?"

He didn't answer that. Instead, he let silence linger for a moment before he sighed. "I've been thinking about you."

You licked your lips slowly. "Me, too." You smiled a little. "But I think America is a little too far for me to go just to share your bed." Your smile faltered slightly. "I'm sure you could find some other woman to fuck tonight. A man like you has got plenty of options."

You weren't hostile as you spoke. Your voice remains gentle, if not dismayed by the proposal. Tommy supposed you sounded almost jealous.

"Maybe," his voice came. You swallowed thickly. "But none of the women here seemed to know how to fuck me like you." You heard him sigh. "None of the women here come close to you."

It was oddly comforting, but not comforting enough to be rid of your unreasonable agitation that he has, in fact, been with other women there. But what else did you expect? He wasn't going to stay celibate for you.

You brushed the fabric of the hem of your nightgown between your fingers, licking your lips. "Are any of them pretty?"

"Not like you."

The way he said it, his voice so soft and deep, brushed against your heart some kind of way. You found yourself wishing you were in his bed, not moaning with your back arched, but resting with your head against his chest. You wanted to feel your skin against his, his heart under your hand, his breath on your skin.

"I wish we spent more time together, you and I," you whispered, your voice soft as the whispers of wind. "I'm sorry we fell apart. I miss you." You didn't care how desperate you probably sounded repeating yourself like that. You let your eyes close, imagining him close again.

"Don't apologise," he said. He didn't go further, he simply left it at that with the implication that you knew what the rest of his meaning was. And you did.

"I want to be there with you." But my family needs me.

"I know." And I care so much that I am willing to wait.

You wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. But you were oceans apart, and there was no getting past that quite soon.

You closed your eyes, inhaling the silence. "Say something to me, darling."

He sighed gently on the other side of the lines. His voice spoke in a way that made you shudder, absorbed in the depth of his timbre.

"I think of you every night, dove… I think of your body in my hands and your lips on mine."

If it weren't for the tone of the line, it'd almost be like you were right there with him, watching him stand over you as you listened to him speak. "What else?" you muttered.

"I think of your legs around my waist and your breath in my ear," he continued. "My name on your lips…"

The slightest whimper escaped you at the sound of that. You breathed in deeply, flattening your palm to your belly. "What would you do to me if I was there with you right now?"

"Oh, I'd fuck you," he put it bluntly. He hummed, and the sound rolled in his throat. "I'd push you against the wall, lift you up, and fuck you until you couldn't stand."

The idea made you weak already. The thought of him taking you rolled in your gut and whispered at your cunt as you clenched around nothing.

"And I wouldn't stop there," he continued, controlling your body with nothing but words as you buried your hand between your thighs and rolled your hips into it. "I'd throw you to the bed and spread your pretty legs apart. I'd taste you, feast on you until you came so many times, you shook. And then I'd fuck you again."

You whispered his name, your breaking trembling.

"I'd put you on your hands and knees, and I'd fuck you into the bed until my name was the only word you knew."

Your breath caught on a moan. You rubbed your finger over your clit, massaging it as you imagined him fulfilling his words. "Would you use my mouth?" you asked breathily.

"Until you could no longer speak."

You cursed under your breath, craving his touch all the more as you fed on the filthy images he put in your head. "I need you, Tom," you whimpered, chasing a high you could not achieve well enough without him.

"I know," he husked. "Keep moaning like that for me."

You did, pleasuring yourself as well as you could. You heard a quiet grunt in his voice across the line and smiled. "Are you touching yourself, Tommy?"

He huffed a breath, listening to you whimper again. "Yeah," he groaned. "Yes, I am, love. You make it hard not to with sounds like that."

You spoke between moans. "I am, too." Obviously, he knew that, but the admission made it all the more erotic. "My hands aren't as big as yours and my fingers aren't as skilled…" You sighed gently, "But your voice is enough to get me off."

Your fingers plunged inside of you, not half as fulfilling as Tommy's as you worked at your clit. "What else would you do to me?"

The sounds of his hand pumping his cock, fast and wet, reached the phone as you listened to the slick sound behind his sighs and groans. "I'd hold you down," he said. "I'd hold you down and shove my cock so deep inside of you." He cursed under his breath as your moans became a little louder, your limbs tingling with a daunting release. "I'd make you fucking scream for me when I hold you down and fill you up."

You moaned loudly that time, so close. Just brushing the edge of pleasure. "Tommy," your voice was insistent, higher-pitched and desperate. "Fuck, Tom."

He was breathless as he listened to you. "I'd fucking breed you," he whispered. "I'd fill you up and breed you, and you would carry my child."

You muffled a rough moan before gasping for breath. "I'm gonna cum, Tom. Fuck, I'm gonna cum for you."

"Then fucking cum."

Your release hit you then, washing over you like a refreshing wave. Not half as powerful as his hands would have made it, but certainly not discontented. His name fell from your tongue again and again as you came, clutching the phone tightly in your grip and wishing it was him.

"That's it," he rasped, his breath choppy. "That's right. Say my name, love."

"Oh, Tommy," you sighed.

You listened to a dark groan rumble in his throat, your brain becoming dizzy with the sound of his panting breath as his own orgasm burst through him. Your name was the word falling from his lips, as if your hands had been the one wrapped around his cock (as you wished they had been). Your heart pounded in his chest as you listened to him cum.

Silence settled as your highs subsided and your breaths steadied. The buzz of pleasure dulled until your hazy mind was cleared enough to think straight.

You were the one to break the silence, to long for his voice so much that the comfort of the quiet was not pleasing enough to keep you from feeding your addiction.

"When are you coming back, Tommy?"

He sighed. There was a pause. "When business here is done."

"When is that?"

"Soon," he said. "Soon." He almost seemed as dismayed by the answer as you.

Your chest ached. "I miss you." That was the third time you said that, bringing far too much truth and desperation to the words as you both let it settle in.

"Just keep talking," he spoke, his voice taking on a different kind of depth as it became soft once more. "Tell me about school. How are the children?" You heard the sound of Tommy's lighter as he flicked it on for a cigarette. "Or your sisters, how are they?"

Your eyes wandered to the clock again. "But it's late, darling, and you need sleep."

"I don't need to sleep right now," he dismissed.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you do."

He paused, and the silence built for just a moment before he spoke again. "Why don't we flip a coin then?" You raised a brow. "Heads, and I'll go to sleep. Tails, you tell me about your sisters and the school. Deal?"

Your lips twitched in a tiny smile, and you sighed. "Okay. Flip a coin, then."

You listened to some rustling for just a moment, and then relative silence on his end. When he spoke again, he seemed to be smiling. "What is it?" you asked.

"Tails."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yes."

You laughed, actually laughed. He called you pathetic when you were moaning underneath him, but there he was lying to keep you on the phone for the pleasure of your company. And, although he'd never admit it, he was definitely the pathetic one when he was weak at the sound of your laughter.

"Okay," you said once your laughter eased to a small giggle. "Well, my littlest sister has officially started at my school. She's teaching the year beneath me. I'm so proud of her."

Tommy sat there and listened to you talk, keeping you there for hours. Every time you suggested it had been too long, he found another excuse to keep you talking, and you complied because you couldn't think of anything you'd enjoy less than ending your call. He may have been selfish, but so were you.

Even as the morning sun was beginning to bleed through his curtains, he listened to your voice. He listened to it slow, dragging behind as the exhaustion creeped in more and more. He listened to your words becoming quieter and quieter until you no longer finished your sentences. And when your words stopped altogether, he stayed back a little while after that to listen to your gentle breaths.

Then he hung up and pushed himself to his feet. He had business to take care of.

-

Fire and ash and dust. That's all your family seemed good for at this point.

Aberama Gold was dead.

Your father was dead.

Granted, a lot of people died that night but fuck. You'd lost your brother, and now your father has joined him in that shithole of a death and left your sisters in your care. Again.

It had been three years of relative peace. You had thought that maybe—just maybe—he would die a normal death. Tommy had returned from America after the stock market crashed, business got bad and foes entered the arena again. Your father, naturally, went to his side. You'd begged whatever cruel gods there were that what took him would be something natural—old age or fucking illness.

To be murdered the way he was… He wasn't supposed to die that way, he wasn't. You hadn't taken care of your family as well as you had for both your brother and father to be so violently killed.

Now the flames licked at the remains of his life, engulfed in fire and likely damning his soul to hell.

You were so tired of losing people. You hoped and prayed for it to stop as you tried to sleep that night. You begged for it all to end when you met that bird in your dreams once again after three short years of silence, feeding off your grief like a vulture.

Tommy had never seen you at such a low.

He'd seen the blaring lights of your car in the front, watched them shut off through the window. He didn't know, at first, that it was you. He just assumed it was someone coming for business—despite the hour—and that he would handle it when he got to it.

But when he heard voices in the main room, voices that were very clearly not from any man and wouldn't be from his sister, he stood from his desk and went to meet it.

He found you there with Charlie, holding one of his toys and laughing when he laughed as you played with him. Tommy watched, fine at first at the way you handled him, so gentle and sweet, a natural caregiver. Charlie's enchanted by you and your sweetness.

But something was off, and he knew it. You'd just lost your father and now you were here, likely waiting for him.

"Mary," Tommy called gently. You only noticed he was standing there then as you turned your head and gave him a wide smile. Your eyes were droopy and glazed over as you slouched where you sat.

Mary arrived quickly, awaiting instruction. "Take Charlie to bed please." She did, walking up to the little boy with a smile as she took his hand. He waved at you, and you waved back.

When Charlie's gone, you stare off in the direction you left with a sigh. "Your little Charlie's so sweet, Tom," you smiled, turning to face him for a moment. You sighed and let your hands fall to your belly, "I want one of me own one day."

He hummed, walking over to you. "Until then," he leaned down and lifted you to your feet, "you need your sleep."

"No." You shook your head quickly. Your words slurred together. "No, no, I don't need to sleep." He walked with you down the hall, and you fought him (although not effectively, just insistently). "If I sleep, I dream. If I dream, I dream of a big, black bird."

You turned around and started walking the opposite way down the hall as he tried to usher you toward the stairs. He followed after you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and holding you there as his lips lingered behind your ear. "The black bird came and went."

You shook your head, leaning your head back on his shoulder and staring at the ceiling with a far off look and a smile that didn't match your grief. "He's still there, darling." You sighed shakily. "Gets bigger every night."

He stood there for a moment with his arms around your waist before dipping down to pick you up in his arms, carrying you up the stairs like a bride. "No one is dying, Miss Gold," he ensured. "Not your sisters and definitely not you."

He carried you all the way up as you turned to face him, worry in your face. "And what about you, Tommy?" You stared at him as he continued down the hall. You raised a hand to his cheek cradling it for a moment. "Are you dying?"

He stared at you, standing in the doorway of his room. He could smell the liquor on your lips, he could see the glaze in your eyes as they stare at you, unfocused. He shook his head. "No," he said. "Not today." He licked his lips and walked farther into the room, closing the door behind him. "My work isn't done yet."

You chuckled, brushing your fingers along his jawline. "The black bird comes for us all." Your smile turned sour as you stared at him before your eyes dropped to his lips.

Tommy sighed. "Not tonight." He lowered you onto the bed, grabbing the covers to try to put over you. "Now go to sleep."

You pushed the covers off you, sitting up on your knees and taking his face in your hands. "I don't want to sleep, darling."

He held his hands to your waist. "No? What do you want?"

You put it bluntly, your words sticky and attempting sultry seduction. It's harder when you're drunk.

"I want you," you moaned, kissing his lips briefly as you speak. "I want you to fuck me. Want you to pin me to the ground and shove your cock in me, sir." You leaned back on your elbows, spreading your legs for him. "Take my mind from the pain in my heart and put it on the pain in my knees."

Tommy watched you. He leaned forward and cupped the side of your neck in his palm. His dark eyes looked up and down your face, lingering on your lips as you smiled at him. He shook his head, "I'm not going to fuck you." Your smile fell, and you looked like you would cry. "Not until I know you're okay, and right now, you need sleep."

He shifted you to lay back against the pillows. You still wouldn't comply, placing a hand on his chest and keeping me back. "Don't make me sleep, Tommy." You seemed almost desperate, but the fatigue was still etched in the expression on your face, there in the depths of your eyes. "Please. I can be such a good girl if you let me."

He was unyielding, urging you back with gentle hands. "Be my good girl and lie down." He kicked his shoes off, undoing the top buttons of his shirt to pull it over his head and unfastening his belt.

"Tom," you mumbled, still refusing, even if your movements are becoming weaker by the second.

"Come on, next to me," he said gently, settling into the bed with you as he pulled you close to him.

"Thomas," you whispered.

He shook his head, "Sleep now." He pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to soothe you. You shifted and kissed his lips, moving your leg over his body to sit on top of him as you smoothed your hands on his chest. You reached down to undo the button of his pants.

Tommy wasn't having it. You wouldn't be getting your way tonight if he could help it as he grabbed your hands. He rolled you over onto your back as he now hovered above you. His hands held your own at either side of your head, keeping you pressed into the bed as he stared down at you.

Your eyes bore into his own and you held your breath as he leaned forward. You lifted your head as much as you could, wanting to meet you in the middle. His face stopped just out of your reach as he shook his head. "Sleep."

He moved off of you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest. He took your hand in his, holding it as the other one rubbed soothing into your back.

You stared at him as he eased you to sleep, and he did the same. He watched your eyelid grow too heavy for you to keep open. He listened to your breath even out. He felt your body go limp against him as finally…you fell asleep next to him.

He kissed your forehead and rested back to do the same.

-

Breath filled your lungs as the bite of consciousness nipped at your heels. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around, finding yourself in a familiar place with the familiar feeling of Tommy Shelby's chest under your cheek.

And for a split second, you forget everything. You forget the death of your brother, the death of your father, the grief of your sisters and yourself. You forget it all in favour of this moment with Tommy, peaceful and undisturbed.

But then it all came back, and you were shoved back to the reality where your family was dying and you still had to hold it all together.

Your mind was clearer now, the alcohol had washed away and made the weight of it all heavier to bear. You were tired, you were miserable, and all you wanted to do was wade off into the stream and sleep.

Your breath caught in your throat and shook. The pain in your chest and in your stomach twisted, wetting your face and encouraging the tiny sob you tried so hard to keep in. You didn't want to disturb, not when he slept so peacefully next to you with an arm tucked around your body. But your cries, however quiet, roused him from his rest.

He eased up to look down at you. Shushing you softly, he pulled you in closer and placed a hand to your cheek to have you look at him. His thumb wiped your tears away as it came, smearing them on the skin of your cheeks as he placed a tender kiss to your forehead. You want to cherish it more—tenderness is not a word associated with this man—but you can only lean into it and nothing more.

You buried your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your face there. "It hurts, Tommy," you breathed.

"I know it does," he said. He stroked a hand along your head, rubbing your back. "Go back to sleep."

You shook your head. "I don't want to sleep."

He sighed, pulling you from his neck to stroke your cheeks as he looked at your face, streaked with tears he wiped away. "Maybe not, but you need to."

You shook your head, placing a hand over his chest. "I want to feel something else, Tommy," you confessed. You smoothed your hand up the length of his chest, up the side of his neck as you cradled him. "I want you. I want you to take me like you did the first time." Memories of that night flooded into you. "Be rough with me, Tommy. Be hard and mean, make me cry."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as your eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into you, slotting your lips with his as the kiss sank into a depth he knew too well with you, a depth he knew he shouldn't have had with you but did anyway. You sighed at the feeling of it, and he did the same.

As the kiss broke with a tiny smack, he cradled your cheek in his large palm. He sighed, "No."

You frowned and ducked your head against his chest. "Please, Tommy," you whispered, broken and helpless.

He lifted your face again, pressing his lips to yours once more in another very slow and very soft kiss. The warm feeling washed over you and provided a comfort you find it hard to keep. "Don't worry, love," he said as he pulled away. "I'll make you cry."

He sat up, turning over so you laid on the sheets and he leaned over you, his hands on either side of your head in the pillows. "But I'm not going to hurt you," he kissed your lips, "and I'm not going to yell," your jaw, "and I'm not going to call you names," your neck. His hand stroked up your chest, and you thought he'd clasp it around your neck. Instead, he held his palm gently against the side of your neck and kissed you again. As he pulled away, he stared into your eyes, his piercing blues and little less piercing and a little more soothing. He looked at you like you were the stars.

"I'm going to make love to you."

He leaned down and kissed your neck again, tilting your head away to give him more access to press his lips against the skin of your throat. They slid down, not a trace of teeth, only lips and tongue and a kind of tenderness that made you shiver.

One of his legs, buried between your thighs, shifted up to ghost over the ache there. You bit your lip, a small mewl slipping between them at the feeling of your pleasure.

But you didn't want tenderness. You didn't want him to make love to you. You wanted him to shove you to the floor and fuck you like you weren't worth anything. You wanted him to take you over his lap and smack your arse. You wanted him to make you take his cock down your throat and keep it there until he decided it was enough.

But that was not what he did.

Tommy kissed you and kissed you. He ghosted his hands over your body and stroked your skin like you were made of glass. He slipped your clothes off of you and set them neatly to the side, doing the same to the rest of his own. He grazed his lips along your body and let his tongue adore the flesh he could reach. He tasted the sweetness of your skin. He filled your body with pleasure and intimacy and so much care.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "You're alright, love. Let me take care of you."

You couldn't take it. It was too gentle, too fond, too much filling that ache inside of you that had become so permanent in your life, you'd forgotten it was ever even there. Even as you tried to press his head closer, he was gentle. Even as you moved your hips up to meet him, he was gentle. Even as you dug your nails into his skin, wanting to rile him up until he forgot his care and took you like a dog, he was gentle.

Because you needed it.

He lifted your thighs over his shoulders, settling between them as he darted his tongue out and licked a long strip up your pussy. You sighed when his lips closed around your clit and he suckled on it. His tongue licked you up in slow, soft laps, dipping between your folds and curling.

"Tommy, please," you begged, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging. The feeling was too nice, too kind. It writhed in your gut, tingled in your fingers. You needed the burn, you needed the fire. But he would only give you the warmth and closeness that made your throat tight.

His finger played at your pussy, coating him in your slick before slipping into you, a slow thrust in and out as he pushed it in deep. You watched him, whimpering pathetically and hoping your weakness will make him dangerous.

That's how it goes right? Taunt a beast with fresh blood and he'll attack?

But Tommy didn't seem to be holding the values of a beast tonight. His kind fingers filled your pussy and stroked inside of you. He licked and kissed and stroked until you began to tighten around him. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, sure circles into it to build you higher and higher.

You were so used to his cruelty, the way he brought you to your pique with gentle hands was so foreign as you moaned. The pleasure wasn't blinding. It unfurled in your belly and then spread over the rest of your body. It loosened all the tension in your muscle and bone, it soothed your blood and lessened the crushing weight on your shoulders. You opened your legs wider, spreading yourself open for more as you keened for his touch.

"Good girl," he whispered to you, his fingers still working away. "Good, breathe." He didn't stop, even as you were coming down from your high. His fingers kept at it, his lips kissed the slick from your folds and whispered praises to you that you never thought you'd hear from him. "I'm right here. You're not alone."

"Tom," you huffed, cradling his cheek in one hand. "Thomas."

Your breaths filled your lungs, made you dizzy with him, surrounded by his scent and his touch. "I know, love," he said. "You're doing great."

His lips met your clit again. His tongue delved into your cunt and licked the wetness off of you. He kept you spread open wide for him as he painted his empathy into you.

He continued to whisper to you as he stroked your clit through to your second orgasm, watching your back arch and your chest expand and listening to your breath shudder through your weak moan. The pleasure washed over like waves on the shore of a beach.

Tommy let your legs down and kissed your belly, an open-mouthed kiss that let's his tongue graze your skin. He moved back up your body, aiming to kiss you again before stopping at your breasts. He took one of them in his hand, squeezing gently and brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Shivers rushed down your spine at the feeling, even more so when he leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicked it, hardening it to a peak as he licked the tip into your nipple. He rolled it in his mouth, playing with it in the way only he knew how, feeding off your sighs of pleasure.

When that one was hard enough, he switched to the other side, giving it the same treatment as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. You brought your hands to his hair, your grasp much looser as you held onto him.

"Tommy, please kiss me," you sighed as he spent too much time away from your lips. He relented to you, roles reversed as he moved to do exactly that. His lips were warm and plump against yours, still tasting of your slick as his tongue brushed your own and he sucked gently on your bottom lip.

He pulled at you, staring with pupils wide as dimes. His knuckles grazed along your jaw. "Do you want my cock, love?" he asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms at your wrists above your head and wrapping your legs around his waist. "Yes, sir," you nearly begged. "I want it rough."

It was a last ditch effort.

But Tommy shook his head, taking your wrists and pulling them back down to kiss. "No," he said. "You're not getting it rough." He moved your arms around his neck, and you held them there.

Your frown deepened. "Please, sir."

He shook his head. "Use my name."

"Sir?"

"Use my name," he said again, his voice holding a whisper of the dominance you were used to while remaining the soft and gentle whisper you weren't. "What's my name?"

"Thomas Shelby." You were really just trying to get a rise out of him. Again, last ditch effort. Maybe he'd break and fuck you like you wanted it. So hard, you forgot everything that had been hurting you.

"What is my name?" he repeated himself. You felt like it was the last time he would.

"Tommy," you whispered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. He did the same, kissing your lips quickly.

"Do you want me?"

"Badly."

"Then I'll give me to you. I'm going to make love to you," he lined himself up with you, stroking the hard length of himself a couple of times. "I'm going to be gentle," he kissed your lips, "and I'm going to be slow," he pressed the head of his cock at your folds, "And I'm going to make you cry."

With one thrust of his hips, he pushed himself inside of you, splitting you on his cock and filling you with his length. A deep sigh slipped out of both of you as your eyes fluttered. He pressed himself all the way inside of you, buried to the hilt and lingered there.

"I'm going to do this because you deserve it," he continued, his voice strained with a slight grunt. His hips eased back, pulling out slowly to the tip before pushing back in. "Because you are gentle," he rolled his hips into you, "and loving," he pulled out to the tip again, "and you don't get nearly enough of it back." He filled you again, you gasped.

His body weight on top of yours was a comfort. He didn't drop all of his weight on top of you, but what he did give was a pleasant pressure on your body. You wrapped yourself as tightly around him as you could, trying to bury your face in his shoulder and being stopped when he pulled you back to look him in the eyes. He stared at you, gazed into the depths of your eyes as he continued to speak, his words a whisper and his tenderness a salve to a broken heart.

"You deserve so much," he grunted. The drag of his cock inside of you was intoxicating, and you wanted more. But he did not change. His pace was slow and steady and filled you with so much emotion, you felt you were going to burst. You were struggling to hold it all in.

"You're beautiful," he said.

You shook your head, "Stop."

"You're lovely."

You tried to turn away, he kept you looking him in the eyes. "Tommy, please."

He held your jaw, still kind, and gazed into your eyes like he was afraid you wouldn't hear him otherwise. "You're fucking perfect."

You broke into a sob, quiet but all-consuming. His hips didn't stop, he kept thrusting in long, deep strokes, grinding his hips into yours and wiping your tears. "You hear me? Eh?" he said, kissing you again. "You're fucking perfect."

His praise was too much for you. He was too nice. You were too used to nice, but kindness coming from a person like this—a man who had fucked you into the floor and called you a filthy whore, a man who had bought you with a penny and used you like a toy—it gave a kind of pleasure you couldn't quite explain as he stroked your cheeks and wiped your tears and told you that you were perfect.

"Anyone who tells you different is a fucking liar," he whispered in your ear, grinding in deep. "You're fucking beautiful and you're lovely and you're perfect. I need you to know that, I need you to know how fucking perfect you are."

You cupped his face in your hands, cherishing him as he spoke, as he thrusted into you, as he filled you with his care and praise and promise. "Do you hear me?" he asked as you closed your eyes shut, overcome by your tears. "Open your eyes and look at me. I need you to see me when I call you my fucking girl."

You whimpered, sighing with every thrust of his hips and holding him to you with your legs and arms. His breath shuddered as he pressed himself deep inside you, your bodies pressed flat together, and rolled his hips into you, stroking that deep part of you that had you gasping for breath.

"Thomas, ahh," you keen, your breath catching on a moan.

He was pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, ghosting his lips where he could reach pressed so closely to you. Your breath shook and your eyes fluttered as you focused on nothing but Tommy, being his girl, being his. You wanted it more than you wanted to admit.

One of his large hands pressed to your cheek as he turned you to look at him. "You said you wanted a baby of your own, eh? I'll put one in you right now. I'd have you growing round with my fucking child." His hips jerked once, a stuttered thrust pulling a moan from you at the idea. "The perfect mother for my child."

A broken sob pulled from your chest at his words, the thought of him having such a claim on you intoxicating you with warmth. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you still pulled him in closer as your bodies were pulled flush together.

She watched him above her, his eyes not quite as cold and piercing, his lips two kisses from swollen, and his cheeks pink with the blood rushing through his veins. His hands on your hips tightened as you met his gaze. Then he let go of you, and you missed the warmth of his palms until his finger intertwined with your own and his thumbs brushed the meat of your palms. He pulled them above your head, pulling both hands into one of his and burying his other hand between your thighs to play with your swollen clit.

"Thomas," you whispered, your voice shallow and breathy and teetering on a moan. You whispered his name again, and again, and again as you felt the pleasure building within you.

His rhythm began to falter, his hips not as steady as before as your whispers of his name beckoned him closer to his release. He cursed under his breath, his chest heavy with breath and something else.

He felt as your pussy tightened around him, squeezing and warming his already hot cock as you grew closer to that tender embrace of ecstasy. "Fuck," he muttered. "Cum for me, love. Let it all go."

And you did. Your back arched and your jaw went slack, your muscles tightened and you fluttered around his cock as you came. A loud moan rolled out of you like the tidal wave that washed over you. You stuttered out his name as you felt him bury his cock deep inside of you as he ground his hips, groaning roughly as he finally came with you.

You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he spilled inside of you, filling you with his cum and making the warmth of it all spread throughout your tired limbs. "Tommy," you whimpered, your voice caught in the pleasure. "Fuck, I love you."

It was a string of words that left your lips in a rush, a fantasy that clawed its way to the surface and revealed something you weren't quite sure you knew yourself. It took you a moment to even realise what had left your mouth, you were so drowned in the dreamlike state he put you in.

Tommy's thrusts slowed to a stop as he stared at your face, his lips parted and plump. He didn't pull out of you or say a word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and brushed his thumb over your skin. You stilled as you stared at him, your heart pounding in fear of his response.

He still didn't speak for a while, watching your face and wiping away the fallen tears streaking on your skin. He licked his lower lip.

"Say it again."

Another tear slipped as you watched him, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I'm sorry," you murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it. It's nothing."

He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his thumb on your bottom lip before releasing it gently. "So you don't love me?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't lie to him, even if you tried. You had only just realised it yourself, only just succumbed to your rogue subconscious and blurted out a secret thought in the heat of the moment. A thought too true for you to deny as you stared at the blue eyes you had spent months—years—memorising, the plush lips your own had kissed a million times over.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his face barely an inch from yours once again. "Hm?"

You swallowed thickly, your voice was hardly a whisper. "Yes."

"Then say it again."

You sighed shakily and licked your bottom lip. "I love you…Tommy."

He closed his eyes and breath in deep, letting it out slowly and softly as he repeated the words in his head like a broken record. You waited in anticipation of his response.

He leaned forward and met your lips with his own, the kiss slow and soft and endearing, brimming with care.

"Good," he whispered back, his voice rough and quiet. "Because I love you, too. Right here, right now, without a doubt… I love you."

You brought your hands to wrap around his neck and pulled him in. He thought you were going to kiss him, but you just held him tightly against your body as you closed your eyes and cried. For the longest time, with your bodies pressed together, with his cock still snug inside of you, with your tears slipping down your cheeks and into your hairline, you cried.

He petted you, stroking his hand along your hair and holding you to him. He let you cry without interruption, without shushing you and telling you "it's okay". He let you sob against him with all the love and grief and care and anger in your heart.

And when your cries subsided and you were able to breathe again, he rolled onto his side and brought you with him as he kissed you again, just as tender and loving as the ones before.

You laid your head on your chest, sniffling gently as your finger smoothed along his skin. "Do you really love me?" you asked quietly.

He nodded, thinking on the way holding you right then made him feel, the nostalgic feeling that filled his homes at the reminder of a love he'd once held in the past, one that still haunts him to this day and only eased with the idea of you. "Yes."

You nodded gently. "You ever been in love before?"

He was a little more hesitant this time, but he still nodded once more as his hand stroked your shoulder. "Yes." He glanced down at you, "Have you?"

You shook your head, "Not like this…" He didn't reply, and you swallowed thickly. "Do you…" You let out a tiny breath. "Do you think I'm going to have a baby now?"

He looked at you and grinned, a look that made you warm. "Hopefully," he chuckled. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, "Gives me an excuse to put a ring on your finger."

You sat up and looked at him, surprise written across your face. "A ring? Already?"

He opened his clear eyes again, still smiling. "I've already decided I'm not letting anyone else have you. So, yes, already." He leaned forward, meeting you halfway in another kiss. "I'm marrying you, love."

You smiled slowly, letting it grow and grow and grow until your cheeks hurt and then after. Glancing away from his face, you let out a tiny chuckle. You eased your way out of the bed, out of his embrace, and went to his coat where you fished a coin from his pockets.

Slipping back into bed next to him, you fiddled with the coin between your fingers. "I'll flip you for it," you smiled. "Heads–"

He took the coin from your hand. "Heads, you marry me. Tails, I marry you. Either way, we're getting married, we're having that baby, and you're stuck with me forever." He tossed the coin away so it landed somewhere on the floor where you couldn't see it with a loud drawl.

You bit your bottom lip, failing to contain a beautiful smile. You nodded, "Okay." You kissed his lips, grinning still as you just kept nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he said, holding you close again and stroking your side. "You're mine, Mrs. Shelby."

You couldn't hold in the chuckle that slipped from your lips. "Well," you sighed happily. "A deal's a deal."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @papichulo120627​ @globetrotter28​ Tag yourself here...

[twilightt-fantasy]

stand up [v. kings]

description: Hey- I have yet to see any of these (kinda?-) But I was hoping if you could do a Poly relationship with the Volturi kings, where the reader is shy as heck and is related to the one and only, Bella swan? Have a great day/afternoon/night <3 :)

requested by: anon

warnings: Bella bashing.

masterlist 

She had always been second to Bella.

Always, didn’t matter what the occasion or skill was - if she could do it, she was certain that Bella would somehow make it better or, if not, find a way to put the attention back on her.  

It was tiresome and aggravating and drove a wedge between her and her mother. Charlie wasn’t nearly as bad as Renee when comparing the two of them, which is why the younger swan wildly preferred her father.

When she found her mates and moved to Italy, the relationship between her and her mom eased a bit. She wasn’t around as much to hear Renee fawn about Bella and Renee instead used the time she did speak to her to wonder how her new - modified version - life was.

She had hoped her and Bella’s relationship would mend itself as well but, of course, that wasn’t the case.

She had been swept into Bella’s world unwillingly and Bella hated that she had to share her little piece of heaven with her sister. It stung her even more that her mates were the very Kings of Volterra, the same ones that nearly stole Edward away from her.

She was not shy about voicing her opinion either, even in front of the kings. She knew they would never do anything to harm the family of their mate if that was what she wished.

Though, the human’s patience was beginning to run thin.

Especially now, as Bella sat in the quiet area of Aro’s study with her husband, sister, and her mates. They visited a couple of times a year, Bella using the chance to show off her new immortality that her sister had not yet received.

Though she hadn’t said much, her mocking eyes and hateful scoffs were not missed by anyone. The Kings were as polite to her as always but she could not return the sentiment.

Her sister hated it and knew her mates did as well. They tried hard to be nice to her and the Cullen family, the least she could do was pretend while she was here.

Hell, even Edward managed to be respectful and hold up a normal conversation.

Finally, after Marcus had attempted to start another conversation with Bella to which he was met with a snarky comment, the mate of the kings had had enough.

“Bella, enough.” Her voice, normally quiet and demure, was loud enough to shock everyone into silence. 

Bella looked to her sister wide eyes, Edward looking between the two of them warily.

Aro, Caius and Marcus all wore varying shades of surprise and pride, their attention fully on their mate as she stared down her sister. Bella was gaping at the human, not used to the loudness of her voice or the displeasure on her face.

“Marcus was simply asking a question, trying to get to know you better. The least you could do is pretend to be polite and have some decency while you’re here.” She was angry now, the years of being pushed behind Bella and constantly being pushed down building up in her. “They’re nice enough to let you come here because you’re my sister but one word, and you won’t see me again and we won’t extend any favors to you.”

“I can’t held that I was pulled into your world and I can’t help who my mates are no matter how much you remind me that you hate me being involved and you hate them.” Bella opened her mouth to argue, to which the human raised her hand, showing she was not done. “But they’ve treated me better in a short time than you have treated me my whole life. You have no right to come here and disrespect them and myself when they’re just being nice.”

She huffed, pausing when she noticed the looks she was getting around the room. Her face turned red then, realizing what she had just done in front of everyone.

Bella was only staring back at her sister, looking only the smallest bit ashamed. Her golden eyes looked towards Edward, who only looked back briefly. “You’re right, I apologize.”

She nodded back, cheeks still burning. “I think we should end this for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she stood heading out of Aro’s quarters and heading towards her own. She knew her mates would be close behind her and left the door open for them, smiling sheepishly when they appeared.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Neither can we.” Aro laughed, reaching forward to grab her hand and kiss her cheek. “That was fantastic.”

“I have to agree.” Caius took her other hand, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “I never saw it coming, though it needed to be said for some time.”

“I was just so sick of her treating you guys like that.” She sighed, leaning her head back into Marcus’ chest as he appeared behind her. “You all have been trying to be nice to her and that’s how she repays you. I can handle it but she shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.” Marcus murmured and the other two nodded in agreement. “She’s your sister, Bella should treat you better than what she does.”

She scoffed. “You’re telling me.”

“Come on.” Caius tugged your hand, pulling you back towards the bed. “No more talk of Bella tonight. We’ll put on a movie or something to get your mind off of it.”

She smiled, leaning up to peck Caius’ cheek as she followed them each to her bed. The four of them got comfortable, her resting in the middle of Caius and Marcus while keeping a hold of Aro’s hand.

Even if her rant towards Bella didn’t change anything, she knew she’d have the three kings for the rest of eternity to love her and accept her in all her ways.

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One

Masterlist

Thank you all so much for the love and support for Part One, it is always so scary sharing brain children. You are all amazing.

Part Two

(Or, Alastor Proves he Makes a Shit Hotel Host by Bullying a Murder Victim)

By the time you opened your eyes, you had been moved to a bed, a comfy bed, in a warm lit room that was modestly decorated. And you were alone, thank god. Sitting up on the edge of the bed and kicking the sheets off as you straightened up. You stretched in a vain attempt to bring yourself some comfort, at least in body if not the mind. Doing this however, resulted in an immediate eye opening panic, because the sides of your arms brushing against either side of your head caught onto nothing.

Y’no, nothing. Nothing where ears should be. Looking around frantically, there was a cracked door heading into what was possibly a bathroom- please god, please be a bathroom. You body checked the frame as you ran in, muttering a whiny ‘ow’ before flicking a switch that turned on the overhead lights by the sink. Door open, lights on aaaand yep. Yep, yep yep. Ears missing. Hyperventilating now, you stumbled to the vanity and braced yourself on the ledge, staring into your own reflection as the panic began to set in.

Hell took your ears!? This was fucking ridiculous. Could one bitch to the devil? But also…how…how were you hearing? Because you definitely could hear. In fact you could hear better than before, like the wind outside rattling against something and a creak from the walls possibly 2 rooms over. Your brain might have been empty of explanation but your ears more than made up for it in what you heard. You leaned towards the mirror, turning your head back and forth trying to figure out what had happened to you. Then you felt it, a twitch, a little itch, at the very top of your head. Eyes drifted upwards to the pair of soft brown ears (?) That didn't quite point straight up, instead pointing more in a 45 degree angle. The left one was flicking of its own accord. The scream that left your mouth was instinctual, and loud.

Almost immediately you heard a knocking at the door and Charlie waltzed in, breathing hard, indicating the speed in which she came to your need. You spun around to meet her eyes, hands whipping to the very soft - so soft - ears utop your crown, breath shaking as you tried to get control over yourself.

“Ooohhh, yes, yes you’ve discovered your adorable new features! Thank goodness, I was so worried!” Charlie said, hands waving in front of her before clasping them together on her chest. “Everyone who comes to hell as a sinner takes on a delightful new appearance that reflects the way they lived and died! It’s a great way for you to meet new people and uh…learn to live a better life in spite of them! Many people take on animal appearances, my dad thinks it’s because every soul transcends the image of a human body.”

Still taking large breaths to keep yourself from screaming, your stuttering proof of your inability to form basic words, Charlie continued.

“Angel Dust is a spider, we think because he was involved in a ‘web of crime’ with his exciting mafia family - Husk…well okay Husk is interesting because I’m pretty sure cats in the overworld don’t have wings but he was a gambler before death so maybe he was just lucky to get wings too! You know, cards fell in his favour ha-haaa…” She trailed off awkwardly, face scrunching in a manner that you understood as her realising maybe she wasn’t explaining any part of this new discovery very well. She rubbed the back of her head with one hand, the other one placing itself on her hip. “Alastor is a deer demon, and it looks like you could be one too! I mean, you’ve got similar ears, although yours are much cuter because they are kind of floppy. And your nose is so cute! Like a baby doe! You’re pretty adorable honestly.”

You glanced at the mirror again, hands finally falling to your face to rest on your chin with your fingers covering your mouth lightly, spaced apart to allow your haggard breathing to come in and out. She was right, you did have a cute nose, it was similar to Charlie’s in appearance, and your ears did closely resemble the ears of a hooved forest animal. They reminded you of a mule deer's ears, the only deers you ever saw in Oregon (where your home was). Looking closer at yourself without the same level of panic your eyes moved back and forth rapidly taking in the new details of your person. Your skin all around was a sort of fawn colour, if fawn the colour could look dead. It was as if Bambi had died and his fur turned an ashier colour devoid of the warmth of active blood. That was you! Your ears were a dark blonde peppered with black, complimenting the soft blondish brown of your hair. Fingertips and nails were black, the black creeping up your arms before ending below the sleeve of your short sleeved pyjama top. You looked down and poked your foot out a bit to see if your lower limbs matched and hooray…they did.

In another world, maybe one where this was a costume, you would admit that you were cute out loud. However denial was still the leading emotion so you just slightly nodded at yourself before slowly turning around to face your gracious host once more.

“So. I’m a deer, so that’s a fun new fact…will I stay this way while I’m…here?” You winced at your admission of hell being your new place of residency.

“Yup!” Charlie replied in a chipper voice.

”And if I manage to get to heaven…will I change into something new?”

Charlie paused, the hand that was on her head had shifted to her chin, finger now tapping in pensive thought. “Hmm, I’m not sure? But from what my dad has said, humans who go up to heaven also take on forms that reflect their earthly life. Soooo you would probably stay a deer.”

”How would your dad know? Can we talk to the people in heaven?” This casual conversation was helping hasten the subsiding panic.

“Uh no. Heaven and Hell are pretty much separated all the time, except for the extermination BUT we’re working on that…My dad is Lucifer. Like the archangel!”

Your face was in obvious shock. Jaw dropped lightly and your hands came to your sternum, and you gaped at Charlie with wide eyes. “Lucifer? Like…the Devil? Satan himself?” What the actual fuck, why was your luck so cursed?

Charlie rocked back and forth on her heels, slightly grimacing from your comments before answering. “Yes, my dad is the Devil - but Satan is his own person, lots of people get them confused, much to dad’s chagrin. Lucifer Morningstar is my dad, the Devil, the King of Hell, fallen angel, and Satan is just the Lord of Wrath. It’s all very simple once you’ve been here a while.” Charlie had come to your side and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to walk you out of the bathroom. ”You should really join us downstairs for a proper tour, breakfast was over a while ago but we might be able to find some lunch in case you’re hungry.”

Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Was Hell just like Earth, but scarier? And redder? Would you need to get a job? Pay taxes? Oh good god, was Hell was just the worst part of living on monotonous repeat? Brutal. And certainly great punishment.

“We can work on getting you some more personal clothing later, but you are Vaggie look to be around the same size so she’s dropped off a few pieces just to get you in gear for redemption! I should probably go tell the others that you’re fine. I can’t wait for you to join us!” Charlie was so sickly sweet it was crazy to think she was the daughter of the Devil. She was too cheerful for a normal person, never mind a demon. She waved to you and said bye before closing the door as she exited.

Picking up the first couple of pieces in the donated pile, you dressed yourself in a shorter dress with a billowing skirt oh my god you have a tail ignore it ignore it ignore it and thicker grey socks that went all the way up to the middle of your thighs, covering up your black skin meeting up with the length of the dress. The dress was a softer white colour, not as bright as a crisp, new piece, this was a well loved item. No complaints, it was broken in and you were grateful for the gift. The only questionable features were the X’s that were placed directly over the nipples of the top. That was…quite the fashion statement. No time to be picky, something would be better than the pyjamas you died in. No shoes were provided so you simply walked out of the room into the hallway without.

The hallway appeared neverending from both sides, the detailed wallpaper and carpet going for visual miles. Which way was the right way? Good thing you were unconscious when you were brought up here, makes it much easier to retrace your steps. You were grateful for your giant new ears because it seemed like you could follow the sound of chatter down a hall.

Frowning, you let instinct take over and you went to the right. You were passing a door on your left and you felt the hair on your body begin to rise, a staticky sensation passing over your skin. It was a similar feeling to when you would take a giant fleece blanket out of the dryer when it was still warm. You shuddered and made an audible noise of discomfort. Thankfully it appeared that you chose the right path however, since you found yourself at a set of stairs that appeared to curve to the lower floor. You could hear the chatter clearer- “She screamed at the mirror? She’s adorable! She coulda been a worm or a giant slug or-” You shook your head, attempting to ignore the conversation you were accidentally eavesdropping on. A click was heard behind you and you whipped around to face the creature that resulted in your uncomfortable welcome to the hotel in the first place.

Alastor.

Now that he wasn’t talking and simply staring at you, analysing your being, you could really take in his face. Large, red eyes with a frightening depth to them were framed by darker red skin on his lids, his nose somehow sharp but similar to your own, his was more nose-like however. His smile was the worst part though. You were unsure of what could possibly make him smile so wide. His teeth were very large, and clean despite their colour. Strange for a person framed after a prey animal to have such sharp teeth, and you instinctively ran your tongue over your own behind your lips to discover sharper canines only, nothing comparable to the man in front of you.

In the silence his eyes narrowed and focused on you, making his face far more intimidating. Again, an unintentional shiver ran down your back and you shuddered under his gaze. You were a startled deer, caught in his frightening gaze. You were so unsure and uncomfortable with the situation that you had completely missed that he said something to you. You closed your eyes and shook your head to get out of your thoughts.

”Pardon? I’m sorry, I missed what you said there.” You admitted with crossed fingers that he would accept the apology.

”Yes, clearly. I merely asked you if you slept well! You took quite a nasty fall to the floor! Generally people know my history before I can make them faint from fear so I will accept the compliment. It appears as if my sabbatical has had very little effect on my presence.” He bowed slightly in a polite manner, arm crossing over his stomach as he did so, the other arm holding a microphone that was promptly used as a cane once he came up from his polite gesture. You had done a small curtsy in return, awkwardly grabbing the side of the small skirt to fulfil the action. He appeared to nod in acknowledgment, hopefully appreciating the polite return.

Your arms dropped back to your side as you processed what the man had said. Things were only going to continue to confuse you. This was all a nightmare, honestly.

“Now, on to a more serious matter,” He snapped his fingers, and the both of you were in a different room. Two chairs to your left were angled around a small table, the little radio featured on top of it. God damn it that fucking thing again. Farther behind one of the chairs however, the room opened into a bayou swamp environment - dark, marshy and foggy, the eerie sounds coming from it promised danger of an unknown kind. What kind of place was this? You could feel your ears flick from the ambient sounds coming from the strange forest as Alastor continued his interrogation. Walking to the antique, he asked “What were you doing with my radio, my dear?” Gesturing with his free hand to the little machine.

You essentially vomited out the story behind it, where you found it, why you were there, the reason you took it home with you. He listened intently, glancing at it once you finished your very brief history with the item. It truly wasn't a scandalous thing that you pilfered from some ritzy location, you salvaged it from a hoarder's house after it was put there by a woman with an obsession with Antiques Roadshow.

“If it is yours, why did it come here with me? Charlie said that possessions don’t follow souls into hell, but this did?” You inquired, hoping perhaps he held the answer.

Alastor became pensive “Hmmm. It is quite peculiar that it came with you. What were you doing with it? Please do not miss a single detail my dear, I am curious about our situation.

You frowned. What else other than grabbing the cord as you fell back? You listed out your actions on your fingers, reciting out loud the steps you took before your death. When you landed on the finger you paired with ‘took the back panel off-‘ he shouted a sharp ha-Hah! Confused and with a frown you continued, ending with cutting your hand on it before putting everything back together and heading to bed. Well, then dying. The actual ending.

“Are you sure that was all you did? Do not leave a single detail out, or you might regret it.” A sound attune with a record scratch sound from nowhere as you stared at the demon. Took radio home, took radio apart, bled on the radio, cleaned blood off the radio - your eyes went wide. And you silently checked off a step you missed in your story. You had cleaned blood off the symbols in the radio, the ones that looked like they themselves had been written in blood. Alastors gaze sharpened at your realisation.

“On the panel, inside the radio…” You started, “There were these symbols inside of it, I didn’t really get a good look at them before cutting my hand open,” You absentmindedly looked at your palm only to see a bright white scar where the long cut once was. Already? A Scar in hell? Alastor had stalked towards you and grabbed your hand to look at it. The air around the two of you was suffocating. It was difficult to think straight with him in front of you. And you were suddenly hyper aware of yourself, and him. Holding your hand was almost too much to handle and you tried to pull it back only for him to grip harder, nails pressing into your hand painfully. He raised his other hand palm up and held it beside yours. A matching scar was present. He frowned, though his smile was still prominent.

Dropping your hand he returned to the radio and black shadow tendrils rose from the floor and grabbed it, taking pieces off and placing the back panel of it in his hands. In silence he looked at the mess before entering into a low laugh, one that increased with each breath before he was near hysteria. His figure increased in size, antlers growing in size from his head, limbs lengthening - he swung his head to face yours as his figure started to loom over yours.

“Well my dear, we seem to have a problem” he said in a strange, distorted voice, his figure still looming. “You have compromised some old runes within my radio…it could possibly explain how you ended up here, with us, looking as you do.” Halfway through his terrifying statement he had returned to his ‘normal’ form and fluffed out the lapel of his coat as he did so. Eyes returning to yours the room became darker, and green symbols similar to the ones in the radio appeared on the floor, some appearing to raise up and float around the two of you.

“You will not mention any part of this radio or what you know of it, including where it was found or how you came into possession with it. You will not let others know of how your scar came on your person, and you certainly will not mention any of the runes you saw.” He wasn’t making a request, he was clearly demanding it. It felt as if wind was billowing his hair and coat as his eyes took on a much brighter look. ”If you do, I promise you will regret having ever come here and I will devour your soul only after a long and painful torture, am I clear?” You nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that the only reason you had not thrown up yet was the complete lack of food in your system, though the bile was resting at the back of your throat from fear.

He raised his hand to yours in a handshake motion, beckoning you with the outreached hand to join yours with his. You grabbed his hand with your own, both scars meeting in the middle, and they began to glow before he said only one word - “Deal?”

Well really, was there any other option? You nodded before he tsk-tsked your action, “I need vocal consent my dear, it is required.” The last word turning dark with static.

“Deal.” You barked out, and as soon as you responded, the room reverted back to its original state immediately. Alastor took his hand back and wiped it on the opposite sleeve. ”Excellent. You may leave now, the stairs will direct you right into the lobby. Please tell Ms. Morningstar that my afternoon has changed and I am unable to join her.” The door swung open on its own accord and black tangible tendrils of shadow had all but shoved you across the room and out the door before slamming the door shut so hard you swore the wood splintered slightly.

You paused to catch your breath, staring at the door, which you now knew led to Alastors Room. On the other side you could tell he must have been pacing back and forth, his heels clacking on the hard floors as he did so. Soon after however, it sounded as if a wild animal was throwing furniture and ripping fabric, loud screaming as it did so. Not about to stick around, you sprinted to the stairs and nearly slipped from the lack of shoes trying to place distance between you and the Demon upstairs. You kept up the pace on the main floor until you ran past an open door and caught sight of Charlie sitting on a sofa. You entered the room, out of breath and slightly sweaty from the encounter upstairs. She waved excitedly before patting the open seat beside her for you to sit as she held up an apple in her other hand. You sat, accepted the apple and took a bite before looking at the Television and promptly choking as you watched a news anchor discuss something called an ‘Extermination’, didn’t Charlie mention that upstairs?

Thankfully, once things had settled down in your head, you found yourself swept up in trust exercises, oh goody. Thankfully this spiralled into chaos and you were glad everyone had simply accepted your presence without hesitation, there were far more exciting things happening. It was especially comforting that Alastor would be keeping his promise and leaving on an outing for the day.

****

I will add here, this will be a semi-slow burn. Alastor is aroace pre-reader, but with time things change. Time, magic, and forced proximity.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Seventeen

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Helluva Boss events of this chapter take place during S2E6 “Oops.” 

Last transition chapter before the finale!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Seventeen - The Countdown

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!!!! Mentions of abuse.

3 Days till Extermination

“Coconut mocha for Sir Pentious, soy latte for Angel, espresso for Husk, decaf for Niffty, 2% cappuccino for Vaggie, iced coffee for Charlie, and black chai for Alastor,” you spun the tray, ensuring you had everyone’s order. 

Well, technically, not “order.” The crew didn’t know you were going to this extent. You woke in Alastor’s bed, the sheets long since gone cold from where Alastor’s sleeping form had once been. The Hotel crew had been hard at work early in the morning - even Husk had skipped his eye-opener glass of whiskey. So, before you had joined the crew in the foyer, you snuck past them and headed for the kitchen. The group was still uneasy around Alastor - everyone except for Husk. The cat demon never gave a fuck about anything regarding the Radio Demon. 

Taking a deep breath, you and the tray made your way to the huddled group in the foyer. “I um… I made coffee?” 

“Thank fuck!” Angel exclaimed. The demon rolled his shoulders and stretched the stiffness from his arms. “Momma needs a drink.” 

You passed off the drinks to their respective partners, finally coming to Charlie. 

“Hey,” you breathed, afraid of saying anything more. This was the first time you were encountering the Princess since the big reveal and although Charlie was always the upbeat, do-gooder of the group, you were still nervous. 

“Hey, um, Aunt… Thestral… Mika-… Mickey… Aunt Mike…” 

God, this was painful to watch. 

“Just call me Mikaela,” you smiled awkwardly, handing her the iced coffee. 

“Okay, Aunt Mikaela,” the Princess smiled softly. 

“Oh…” You blinked. “No, Charlie, it’s okay. You don’t have to…” You huffed, noticing the eyes around you quickly darting away. “I have not earned that title.” Your shoulders slumped as you spoke. 

You never really expected to have this conversation. You had just assumed the worst, but this was Charlie for crying out loud. She was technically family. She was a bleeding heart, so of course she’d want some sort of relationship with you. Yet, you hadn’t really thought down this avenue, thinking you’d forever stay friends and never acknowledge the elephant in the room. Especially considering Lucifer hated you and wanted nothing to do with you… 

Charlie placed a hand on your arm and smiled. “I look forward to that day.” 

The Princess didn’t smile because she agreed with you, she smiled because she recognized the struggle within you. She recognized that you were not ready for that, for whatever reason (~hellah guilt~), and that you needed time to come to terms with the situation. 

So she’d give it to you. 

“Can we get back to plannin’? I’m too hungover for this shit.” Husk grumbled. 

You rejoined the group before the table, squishing yourself between the cat demon and Alastor. 

“Mon couer,” Alastor greeted you with his usual kiss of your hand that made the butterflies in your belly crazy. 

“I don’t approve of this…” Vaggie grumbled as she crossed her arms. 

“Yeah, yeah!” Angel shoved his way between you and Husk. “We know, Small Tits!”

The Radio Demon leaned in, finding any excuse to touch you. His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the dark fabric of his suit accenting his sharp lines. What you would give to rip that suit off of him right here…

“Stop calling me that!” Vaggie stomped her foot, but Angel continued on. 

“Watya tink?” The spider demon motioned to the diorama before him. 

The Hotel was drawn in pencil on a sheet of paper, small objects signifying each of the Hotel Natives. You assumed the glass of scotch was Husk, Angel was the cellphone charm, the grey feather was Vaggie, the needle was Nifty, one of the Eggs (Frank?) represented Sir Pentious, the stress ball was Charlie, and… Alastor was a cut-out music note (probably hand-drawn by Angel). Which meant you were the espresso cup. 

“What is this?” You scrunched your nose. 

“A battle plan!” Angel exclaimed. “Can’t go to war without a strategy. Am I right?” 

You did a doubletake. “This…” You swallowed. 

Angel’s smile dropped. “What? What’s wrong?” The demon analyzed the playing board. 

“Well…” You handed your coffee off to Alastor. “Can I?” You waited for Angel to permit you before - quite literally - rearranging every single icon on the map. Before you were done, it was a completely different strategy. 

“Wow,” Charlie smiled. “Uhm, really - really - good job! But… Can you maybe… maybe explain to those who don’t know what’s going on, what’s going on…” 

Oh, Charlie, dancing around the honest truth: what the fuck were you thinking with this? 

“Well…” You pointed to the scotch and phone charm. “Husk and Angel have natural chemistry.”

“Excuse me?” Husk scoffed. 

“Oooooh,” Angel purred. “You hear that, Whiskers? Chemistry.” Angel leaned into Husk, the older demon rolling his eyes but not pulling away as his cheeks heated. 

“They work well together, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “Angel is a medium-distance fighter, while Husk is more close combat. If the portal to Heaven opens here,” you point to the front of the Hotel. “Which I suspect Adam will do, Angel and Husk can cover the right wing. At the same time, Charlie and Vaggie can cover the left. Same concept with their dynamic. Vaggie has battle experience, and Charlie… Well…” You winced. “She’ll be well taken care of.” 

“I love it,” Angel purred, leaning into Husk even more. The cat demon sidestepped, allowing the spider to fall right onto the carpet. 

“What about me?” Nifty appeared beneath your legs, her head barely appearing over the table's surface. 

“You are a Jungler.”

“Oh!” She laughed maniacally, “A Jungler! Uh, what’s that?”

“A Jungler,” you moved the needle to demonstrate. “Is sort of like a freelancer. You have the power to move between the two groups and work as you please.”

“Why would I do that?” The small demon tilted her head before reaching for the needle. Vaggie swatted her away. 

“Because, you can take out any rogue Angel that slips past or attempts to ambush the four of them,” you explained. 

“Oh, I like that!” She laughed. 

“And me?” Sir Pentious stepped in. 

“With your knowledge of war and supply of long-range weaponry, you’ll be right outside the Hotel, with Angel, Husk. Charlie, and Vaggie being the line between you and the Angels. You and your Egg boys…”

“Hey, that’s me!” Frank pointed out. 

“... will be in charge of long-range attacks against the invading forces. You’ll be aiming for the portal opening: where they concentrate most.”

“Yesssssss, sssssssir!” The snake demon saluted. “It would be our honor!”

You huffed, “That just leaves Al and I.” You moved the music note to the front line. “Alastor is our tank. He does the best against multiple enemies at once and can take the most hits. He’s best suited for the front lines, while I…” You moved the cup to the top of the Hazbin Hotel. “... deal with Adam.”

The entire room went silent. 

“I’m our secret weapon. I’d be best used against their Commander and Second in Command - Lute. I know Adam’s fighting style, which means I know his weaknesses. He won’t be much of a problem for me.” You could technically take out the entire Exorcist force single-handedly if you wanted to, but unleashing the hidden Power within you would be a stupid move. It needed to remain a secret…

The room says nothing for so long you almost question whether they have frozen in time. 

A zip of static runs its way down your spine. You turn to face the Radio Demon, his pupils pinpoint and hard as steel, despite his cool demeanor, meets your gaze. 

You blink, “What?”

Angel leans in and whispers not-so-quietly, “That was Smile’s plan you just messed with, Hair clip.”

Oh, shit. 

No. Wait. 

You crossed your arms, “You want Adam for yourself.”

Alastor laughed, his chuckles shallow and filled with static, “When you say it that way, darling, it sounds selfish. No, no! I simply wish to play my part. What would dear Adam think when Mikaela Morningstar suddenly appeared after a hundred years of silence, hmm?” 

It was always so interesting how Alastor could flip his personality on a dime. He was so different with you when the two of you were alone. The Radio Demon was always just a mask, but one he wore well. It was going to take some used to - this change of pace in front of others - but part of you saw it as playful. So, you played. 

Grinning, you leaned in. Alastor’s grip tightened on his cane, noting the sudden change in proximity while in public. It made him uncomfortable, but you were doing that on purpose. “Who said I’d be going as Mikaela Morningstar?”

“Oh, my!” The Radio Demon pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes feigning a spark of interest. “Had you found your cloak? I thought that shabbish thing went missing for good!” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the slight, “No, unfortunately, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make another one.”

“In such a short time!” Alastor leaned in, goating you despite the crowd. “My, my, what a feat that would be to pull off.”

Oh, to dance with the devil… You had one argument in your back pocket you could use that would shut Al up for good, but you would never do that. You would never tell Alastor that he sat a few rungs lower on the hierarchy of power than Adam did… It would destroy him. 

So, instead, you said, “Al, I can handle him…”

“As can I.” Alastor leaned in more, his towering figure bent at an odd angle in order for you to meet him at eye level. “Laisse-moi faire mon travail, mon cœur. Let me do my job, mon couer.”

You blinked before switching to French. “De quoi s'agit-il vraiment? What is this really about, Al?”

The demon smiled, this grin lop-sided and genuine - his Radio Demon persona dropping for but a moment. “Toi, mon cœur, ça a toujours été à propos de toi. You, mon couer, it's always been about you.” 

“I think…” Charlie steps in, “... what Alastor is trying to say is, it’s safer for you if you remain hidden from Heaven.”

Wait, can Charlie switch languages like an Angel could? Well, Vaggie could - she was an Angel - but Charlie was “other.” You didn’t know if she was closer to a demon or an Angel or - God-forbid - a Human Sinner at this point. She was the first of her kind - both belonging to and also not. 

“I won’t hide from a fight.” You turn your energy towards her. 

“You won’t be hiding, you’ll just be…” Charlie’s words ran out. 

But, of course, Al popped in, “You’ll be assisting our dear Princess.” The demon placed a hand on her shoulder in support. “Keeping her safe from any harm during the onslaught from…” Al made direct eye contact with you before continuing, “your plan.”

Fuck. The entire ordeal with Lilith slammed into your mind. You made a promise that your plan would keep Charlie out of harms way and here you were, placing her on a battlefield. Fuck, Alastor was right, you were going to have to watch after her during the chaos. The fight left you then, the realization of the situation weighing down your limbs with lead. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. 

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Rolf switched the music note for the coffee cup, the ceramic finding its new home next to the stress ball and grey feather. 

Leaving Alastor to face Adam alone…

____________________________________________

2 Days till Extermination

Alastor had introduced you to the most important person in his entire life, but she couldn’t be there. 

As you stared at the marbled headstone, worn with age, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in your gut. Had you not done the things you did, had you returned Eve to Heaven like you were supposed to, you might still be able to pass St. Peter and enter the pearly white gates. You might still be able to return Alastor to his mother instead of standing here at her grave, speaking to the tree she was buried under.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” you give a small curtsy before Alastor grabbed your hips and pulled you into him. Resting your head on his chest, you stand in silence for a while, letting the wind whip your hair and skirt in the small breeze. It was warm in Louisiana - the Extermination was right around the corner. You should have worn something lighter, but you wanted to wear something nice, something important for this moment. 

Rosie had redone your wardrobe, this time unabashedly dressing you in Alastor’s colors. At your request, she redid the red and black dress you loved so much, the one with a back of black lace. You wore that and a matching red ribbon in your golden hair. God, even on this side, you looked so much like Lucifer it’s a shock no one put it together the moment he stepped foot in the foyer. 

“Alastor,” you breathed into his black lapel jacket. Someone, somewhere, was playing a trumpet, its brass echoing through the green meadow trapped within the heart of the city. “I need to say something.”

“Hmm,” the demon hummed. 

You pulled back a little, yet still in his arms. You needed room for this part, to catch your breath. “Lilith has to die.”

It had been swimming through your mind for days at this point - since you woke in Alastor’s bed and found him smiling in his sleep. 

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyebrows shot up, his smile slightly strained. You knew how he hated talking of Hell’s Queen and you knew why. “And why would that be?”

Taking a breath, you let your power slip out, just like it had that first day at the Hotel. You prodded into Alastor and, this time, he didn’t even put up a fight. You dug deep, swimming through the lake of power he had built up over the years as Overlord, until you found the center - empty. 

Alastor’s Soul was missing. 

“I knew something felt wrong, but I didn’t figure it out until recently. ‘To power and chaos,’ that was the last thing Lilith said to me before she took her trip top-side.”

Although you had but a moment to taste the well of power Alastor carried within him, it felt off. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it until yesterday when you were talking with Angel. 

The spider demon brought you into his room and poked and prodded you about your relationship with the Radio Demon. Mostly he wanted information on the things only lover’s shared in bed, because, of course he did. Yet, the spider demon had asked you a very important question, one you never would have considered had he not brought it up. 

____________________________________________

“So, uh…” Angel rolled onto his side atop the bed, Fat Nuggets snoozing in his arms. “I have ta’ ask this but uh, if yous was a Human Sinner, ya’ think Smiles would be all over ya’ Soul?” 

You paused mid-chew of a sweet lemon square Angel had stashed in his room. After he sampled the ones you shared with him all those moons ago, the spider demon went searching for his own. Not for himself, but for the loveable blob of pink he shared the space with. 

You blinked, mouth full of tartness.

Would Alastor, the Radio Demon, the man Hell-bent on the consumption of power, the architect of some of the most infamous deals in Hell, want your Soul? I mean, you imagined he would. Why wouldn’t he? The demon tried to kill you for power not that long ago, even going so far as to sink an Angelic blade into your flesh. Yet, he was a man consumed then, a veil of desire overshadowing his senses, but he broke through. Yes, you nearly destroyed half of a border town district in doing so but in the end, Alastor came back to you. 

So, given the chance, would he persuade you - violently - into signing a contract to give over your Soul?  

“Yes,” you swallowed. 

Angel narrowed his eyes at you, “Ya’ seriously tink that, Hair clip?”

The lemon squares suddenly became too distracting. “I do. Do you know why?” You pushed the sugary delights away, clearing space for yourself physically and mentally to think this out. “Alastor nearly killed me, but he didn’t. In the end… In the end, he chose me. Had he been after my Soul, well, I’d still end up on that radio tower balcony with a knife to my throat. And it would have gone the exact same way it did the first time.”

Angel’s jaw dropped, “Wow, ya got a lot more faith in him than the rest of us evah would.” 

Oh yes, Alastor would want your Soul… but what of his? Your stomach twisted. 

You snort, willing the thought away, “Yeah, that’s why I’m the one getting dick and you’re not.”

The pig demon jumped as Angel exploded in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit! Okay! Okay…” He wheezed. “Okay, one last question. One last question!” The demon regained his breath. “I need ya’ to answer me seriously, gurl. Does the carpet match the drapes?”

You shoot him a dumb look. “Seriously?”

“As serious as the day I died.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything that is said in here never leaves this room, understood?” Angel had managed to weasel a few - A FEW - details regarding your sex life. Alastor was a very private person; you knew he would hate if serious ~details~ ever got out. So, you stuck to mostly the softer topics regarding your relationship - despite Angel’s protests. 

“Ya! Ya!” Angel rolled onto his back, his head dangling over the side of the bed. “You’ve reminded me like fifty fuckin’ times. Just tell me!”

You grumbled, but trusted the spider demon anyway, “Yes.”

“I knew it! RED LIPSTICK DICK!” the demon shouted. 

“Angel!”  

____________________________________________

Alastor spun you before you could read more of his face, wrapping his arms around you from behind, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. He wasn’t hiding from you; he just couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Not with pity - never pity - but intent, and he didn’t want that to fuel the guilt growing inside him. 

The demon places a kiss on your bare skin, “Mother would have adored you.”

You breathed, a small smile forming on your face, “And I, her.”

You felt the demon smile against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, comfortable in the silence, enjoying the beautiful day. Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. The change of the weather was warming you to the point of discomfort, the humidity sticking to your skin. You curtsied to the grave and placed a kiss on Alastor’s cheek, thanking him for this moment and silently hoping for many more to come.

“Are you ready?” You snap your fingers, and the Hotel foyer beamed back at you through the crack in reality. 

“I will be,” Alastor had his back to you, his hands finding his pants pockets. “I need a moment, my doe.”

My doe? That was new. 

You note the stiffness in his shoulders, the sudden downturn of his smile - a thing he only ever let you see. Resisting the urge to rub the tension from his arms, you step through, giving Alastor Hartfelt a moment alone with his mother. 

____________________________________________

The Day Before The Extermination

“Alright, bring it in!” Angel pulled the last bit of the clutter from the doorway, the chairs and tables used to barricade the doors from the torrential media outside. The media plagued you tirelessly as Velvette continued to spread her gossip to any news media outlet that would listen - which was all of them.

The media sharks had circled the Hotel guests for the past three days. Stalking them in the streets and on social media. The only time they didn’t go running after a Hotel Native was when Alastor left the Hotel with Charlie to visit Rosie in Cannibal Town. Angel was the one to suggest a barricade and he was right in doing so. The rest of you have managed to sneak out the back and circle in through the Doomsday District. It was a bitch of a walk but what else was one to do? 

You were just thankful the crew didn’t resent you for it. That being said, there wasn’t really any time for that - particularly today. There was far too much to be done to prepare this place and the surrounding grounds for the onslaught you were about to face. You had the disadvantage of being sitting ducks, but the advantage of surprise. 

That’s where Carmilla came in. Vaggie had somehow swung the Overlord into promising resources for your battle. This is what led you and Angel to spend nearly an hour removing the wonderful barricade to allow boxes upon boxes of sparkling weapons to be delivered to the Hotel. 

Boxes and boxes of weapons which could kill you…

“You can drop those by the bar,” you informed the first demon in the line of demons carrying boxes. The demon, a praying mantis by the looks of him, eyed you weirdly but continued on with his work. 

Not surprising. Velvette was saying some pretty nasty shit about you. The newest and most supported rumor was that you were sent from Heaven to spy on the inner workings of Hell in order to kill more demons off in the next Extermination. Which made sense, why would the  Extermination date move up? The beheading of the Exorcist was only known to a select few - the majority of which were in the Hotel with you. The rest of the City had to put the pieces together without that information, and an Angel showing up and attempting to take down not one but four different Overlords looked - to them - to be an attack on Hell’s power system. An attempt to strip the underworld down and weaken it before the next attack. 

It didn’t matter that you had actually come to Hell to empower it, to raise it up into a formidable force, to build an army to fight. You were just thankful they had moved on from topics like your sex life. 

Can’t a woman enjoy power without accusations of “whoring herself out?”

Alastor also mentioned that they even interviewed Susan, but nothing was published, as everything she said was too nice and supportive. The media wanted scandal, not sweet stories about tea time with Granny. 

“Sign here,” a familiar yet quiet voice rings out. 

Odette. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you twisted in place, your gaze finding the light-skinned demon. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look away, but instead makes her way towards you. 

Was something wrong? Odette never spoke to you directly, let alone confronted you alone, ever since the incident on Extermination Day. She was a soft spoken woman before, now she had gone completely silent. 

“Mikaela,” she nods, ever the young girl she always was. 

“Odette, is everything okay?” You crinkled your nose in concern, your palms sweaty with anxiety. You resisted the urge to rub the back of your neck as images of blood filled your vision. 

“Yes,” She huffs, looking down. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but words have evaded me.” 

Ah, there was her academic mind. Always such a well-spoken demon with what little words she did possess.

“I believe you have miscalculated, in regards to my mother…”

Oh? You blinked. 

“What happened that day…” Her gaze falls to her clipboard as she clutches it against her chest. “… was a miracle and I will be forever grateful. However, the circumstances regarding said miracle have brought tension between you and my mother and I can no longer sit idly by and watch as she withers away.” 

The demon thrusts her clipboard before you to reveal a contract. 

“My mother promised you Souls in exchange for your services with the Vees. That has since ended and you are thus due payment. However…”

Odette flips the top page over to reveal a black obsidian calling card. Carmilla’s true name shines on its surface in bright white. “I will no longer sit by and watch my mother wrack herself sick with guilt. So I ask you this, sign the contract, take the card, and erase my mother’s memories of that fateful day.” 

You blinked. “What? Why?” 

“My mother blames herself for what happened to me. She has barely allowed me out of the penthouse, let alone the building. Today was the first day in weeks, but my endeavor from home was necessary, pending the deliveries. My hope is that, by taking back this card and erasing her memories, she will forget my near death and move on with her life.” 

Oh…

It would work. Carmilla didn’t have to be the one to relieve the card, it simply had to be taken from her in any manner that could arise. Carmilla wouldn’t only forget your identity but every moment you shared together. It was a failsafe you and Rosie input into the cards the day you made them - a dramatic but necessary move to make. 

So the question was, was Carmilla a friend? Yes, she tortured you when you first arrived - hung you from the ceiling and tortured you for information, but the two of you had moved on from that. You were now business partners, partners in crime, and also… familiar with each other. 

The day Odette almost died you were just as hopeless as Carmilla and Clara. You would have slit your own wrist had you thought it would have worked. Odette was right, her healing from a traumatic wound such as that was a miracle. 

The deaths of the 14 demons who saw however… That was what haunted you. Yes, you’ve killed before but always with purpose. Killing humans on Earth meant nothing knowing they had an afterlife to look forward to. Killing Human Sinners in Hell, however, it meant ending their entire existence. That was different and the days you could hold back the ever bloodthirsty Book of Knowledge you stuck by that rule. The times you couldn’t… Well… Killing was too easy. 

“No,” you breathed. “I’ll take the Souls but not the card.” You dipped to meet her gaze. “I’ve recently learned how important my friendships are to me in this world, and I don’t plan on giving them up that easily. I’m sorry for the things your mother has been going through but what happened was not her fault.” You placed a hand on Odette’s shoulder. “I would have done the same had someone I…” Your eyes flit to the bar, to where Alastor sat sipping a glass of rye, he and Husk were well entranced within a conversation. “Someone important to me was hurt. After all this is over, Odette, I will pay the three of you a visit and set this right. In any way that I can. If your mother wishes to give up the card herself after that, then I will accept, but it must come from her. I owe her that much…” 

Odette gives a slight nod, the downturn of her mouth illuminating her disappointment.

“And, Odette, if I thought at the time there was something I could have done, I would have. Do not feel guilty for surviving. Whatever form that may take.” 

Odette was looking but you could tell she wasn’t really listening. After you told her no her gaze glazed over as if her mind was elsewhere. It was fine. Trauma is rarely resolved after one conversation. 

You brought the demon into a hug, shocking her as much as you did yourself. You weren’t good at this emotion thing and comforting others, but you were getting much better at it. 

“You’re a survivor, Odette, just like me…”

____________________________________________

Elsewhere in Hell… 

The Mafia boss sat with his back to the desk, a roaring fire of green illuminating the darkened office. “So, you say you're good? 'Cuz we really need a big score right now…” 

Swiveling in his high-backed chair, the imp turns. 

“The best, had a royal on the ropes just last week.” Striker sets his glass of wine on the desk, allowing Alessio - the imp’s butler - to refill their glasses. 

Crimson was more of a whiskey man himself, he preferred the burn as much as the dulling numbness from the alcohol, but the wine wasn’t for him. It was for his guest. 

“Sure, but not dead?” The question comes out sharper than he wants, but then again, Crim was not in a good mood. 

He had been embarrassed. In public. Minutes after you disappeared, the shots of blue electricity following in your wake, the imp boss spotted a pissed-off mass of red barreling straight for the Entertainment District. The demon quickly called off his gang, knowing full well what a visit from the Radio Demon would bring his crew. Crim was brash, but he wasn’t stupid. 

“It was... called off. But I have a body count in the hundreds! I ain't afraid to go after anyone. Women, kids-” The roar of the crowd outside interrupts their conversation, but the imp continues before climbing to his feet to check the window. “And cute little-faced puppy-lookin' things. Don't matter!

“Hmm…” Crim thought, “I'll tell ya what. If you can deliver something of value... I'll consider it. You see, I have a particularly irritating Heavenly creature I need something done about.”

Striker smirks, the gleam in his crazed eye evident even in the low light. Now that was an opportunity the assassin could not pass up. “One moment…”

Striker opens the window and pulls out his lasso. Sending the rope soaring into the streets below, the assassin finds his mark and pulls. Two figures fly into the room and slam against the back wall, interrupting a particularly intense game of billiards between two of Crim’s demons. 

Fizzarolli and Blitz.

Crimson laughs, “Hired!”

Striker corners the two demons against the wall, “Funny to run into ya’ again, Blitzy!" The assassin pulls out his knife and slides toward the clown imp, pointing it under his chin. “And with a famous friend…”

Blitz rolls his eyes, “Oh, fuck me.”

Fizzarolli crosses his arms, “For the record, we are not friends.”

____________________________________________

The Night Before…

Normally chaos excited you. Normally you and Alastor couldn’t keep your hands off each other at the mere thought of it, but tonight… Tonight all you wanted to do was lay wrapped in his arms, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you played with the fur on his chest. 

You were nervous. You were worried. Trepidation was such an odd thing, the potential promise of hurt an ever-looming dark cloud that threatened rain but never dropped it. 

You’ve been worried for Alastor before, most notably the day Velvette fake kidnapped him atop V Tower, but not like this. This was disabling concern. It made you leave the pre-fight celebration early tonight - the last hoorah before looking death straight in the face tomorrow. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was life after death. This was extinction. 

And if anything happened to Alastor, there would be no way to bring him back…

“My doe,” Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing you from your thoughts. “You’re sparking.” 

“Oh,” you blinked, noticing the blues dancing off your skin. “Sorry.” 

Alastor had noticed you sneaking off early from the festivities - because, of course, he did. When you had reached the top of the stairs and headed for your room, well… Alastor couldn’t have that now could he? Rolf shadowed the two of you to his room, where the demon insisted on a bath.

There wasn’t anything sexual about it. Alastor layed you against him as he scrubbed the stress from your skin, massaging the worry from your scalp as he shampooed your hair.

It was the day before battle and Alastor was taking care of you - YOU - a battle-born soldier who has seen more bloody encounters than she could count. You had faced down pure death and yet here you were, shaking like a leaf with anxiety as a Human Sinner soothed your worries. 

Alastor ran a hand through your hair, tucking the locks gently behind your ear. “You’re worried.”

“I am,” you bit your lip, Alastor’s nails eliciting goosebumps as they trailed down your shoulder and arm. 

It was ironic: the demon who detested physical contact couldn’t keep his hands off you. Yet, it was also an odd comfort. You had never been “touched” in this way before. You’ve never had someone be so gentle with you. Like your wings neatly tucked away, your skin had only ever really known things like hurt and pain. It was a weird adjustment to kindness and one you weren’t quite used to.

You still flinched whenever Alastor reached for you. You still jumped when he approached from behind. You still winced when his hand went to your hair…

Years of abuse and then years without… Your body still has a memory even if your mind was elsewhere.

“The plan will work,” Alastor hummed into your hair, the scent of his shampoo wafting off the two of you in droves. It would have been its own kind of soothing high had you not been so tense. 

The two of you lay beneath his covers, wrapped in the warmth of Alastor’s Hotel bath robes. Your legs were intertwined with his, your toes warming themselves against the demon’s calves. Alastor always made a point to keep his hooves away from your feet - almost as if he was self-conscious about his lack of toes. Yet you fought him on it, intentionally tangling your legs together so he couldn’t pull away. 

“It’s not the plan that worries me…” Your voice trailed off. 

Alastor’s hand stopped to cup your face and guided your eyes to his. Worry crinkled his brow, his smile faltering to a thin line of his lips. There was understanding before he spoke, “You worry for me.”

Your lip trembled as you huffed. Digging your head into the fluff of his chest, you felt the hot tears begin to build behind your eyes, the air suddenly sucked from the room as your heart finally acknowledged the terrifying elephant in the room. 

“Oh, ma biche chérie, ne verse pas de larmes pour mon âme. Oh, my darling doe, shed not tears for my Soul.”

“You’re facing Adam, tomorrow, Alastor - an extremely powerful Angel.” Your voice cracked. 

Alastor gently tipped your face into his, your chin tucked between his forefinger and thumb. “An extremely powerful Human Soul.” The demon corrects.

A Human Soul. 

Right. 

Adam was merely a Human Soul. On the tiers of power he was leagues below you, but Alastor? You had always been taught that an Angel outweighs a Human Sinner in all aspects of reality, but then again you were also taught that Angels couldn’t die so…

“Promise me something?” You propped yourself up on your elbows as you spoke, overtowering Alastor beneath you. The demon wouldn’t be caught dead in this position with anyone else.

“Hmm,” he merely responded, his eyes gloomy with the weight of your worry.

“If anything happens…”

“It will not.”

“If anything happens,” you repeat. “Promise that you will either send Rolf for me or use the calling card?” 

The demon paused for a breath, mixed emotions brewing within him. He couldn’t decide whether to give in to your worry for him as opposed to arguing against it. After all, Alastor the Radio Demon didn’t have a reputation for being weak. Your lack of confidence in him was not a lack of confidence. It was worry; albeit, misplaced. Alastor could take care of himself, he had for years. In his mind he had taken down top dogs more powerful than himself before - even Overlords before he became one. Adam was just another name on the list.

The Radio Demon wasn’t fretting over the confrontation so he didn’t see why you would be? Well… That’s not true. A part of him was worried but not for himself, for you. Tomorrow would shine a lot of Heavenly attention on the Hotel - unwanted attention for someone in hiding from Heaven. He worried what might happen to you should anyone discover who you are during the campaign - and you still hadn’t found your cloak. 

Charlie had managed to help you stitch something together last minute but it was nothing compared to ancient magic. What you would be wearing tomorrow would be nothing but a clothed hood…

“And should anything happen to you?” The demon countered.

You blinked, not expecting the question. 

“I have seen you die once, my doe. I will not see it again.”

There it was again: “my doe.”

“I will be by Charlie’s side the entire time. Should anything happen, Vaggie will be the one to let everyone know, for they will be going after the Princess next…” 

“Hmm,” Alastor did not like that answer. 

Then, a thought hit you. “Give me your card.”

Without any hesitation, Alastor pulled the obsidian calling card from the void and watched as you flipped the metal over, his true name hidden beneath your fingers. You waived your hand over the darkness and watched the black consolidate into text, like bleeding ink on wet paper but in reverse. It was a hidden contract in plain sight. One every Human Sinner inadvertently signed with their blood when you granted them the right to summon you. 

“Rosie helped me design these.” You mumbled. “She wrote them, but I signed them. Perhaps if I…” The words changed beneath your hand, reforming a new contract. “There…” You handed the card back to Alastor and watched as the ink saturated the card, solidifying it into shining obsidian once more. 

The demon raised an eyebrow at you. 

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed it to your chest. “Close your eyes,” you demanded.

And he obeyed. 

“Think of me,” you began. “Think of…”

“Lavender,” the demon interrupted almost immediately. After all, thinking of you wasn’t hard to do. The scent of the decadent flower filled the demon’s nose as real and as solid as the beat of your heart beneath his fingers. “Red wine.” Cabernet hit his tongue, the tannins dancing across his taste buds. The demon smiled, the curl of his lips lopsided as he smiled his iconic half-cocked grin. “The forest.” Greens and browns blinded the demon’s vision.

You sucked in a breath. 

Alastor slowly opened his eyes, his pupils dilating at the sight of you. “And… The humidity of Louisiana…”

You stared back, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

Somewhere, somehow, along the way, Alastor had become a part of you… 

Your heart kicked into a frenzy at what that meant, but still oh-so afraid to voice it…

Three little words and yet…

“The softness of your hair,” Alastor’s claws found your silver locks, his fingers threading through the strands. “Your skin.” The back of the demon’s knuckles traced your cheek. “Your lips.” 

Alastor leaned in and kissed you. His tongue drinking in the lingering taste of you. He broke away for but a moment, “I can feel you.”

The obsidian calling cards gave you an unnatural avenue into the lives of the holders. It allowed you to feel their emotions, to scent their Souls, to taste their desires. The contract opened a connection that you and Rosie had not originally intended - yet didn’t change. Reconfiguring the contract had opened that door and allowed it to flow both ways. It was almost like the connection you shared when you inadvertently signed your verbal contract on the balcony of his radio tower - except this was different. It wasn’t as strong and only allowed you to sense the other - a mere skim of the surface compared to what you had experienced. 

The demon drove you onto your back before settling himself between your legs. With his forehead on yours, the two of you out of breath, he spoke, “Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine*…"

You didn’t have a chance to switch your brain to French before the demon’s lips were back on yours, his hips perfectly aligned before driving himself in.  

That night, before chaos and destruction, before death and suffering, before fear and heartbreak, you made love to the Radio Demon…

And you prayed - you prayed it wasn't the final time…

* "Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine" = This is an extremely sad quote that has many many meanings even in the French language. It can be translated as "dying from unfulfilled love," "Dying for love, living for hatred," etc... I used it here to mean "dying for love." Read into that how you will, but it's extremely fitting for Alastor's character arc at this point in time.

Last transition chapter - Chapter 18 will be the Finale! There will be alternate endings - please read author note before chapter 18 starts.

-> Chapter 18: My Fawn & My Shadow

-> Chapter 18: Paris

Tagged Hoteliers: (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 0 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail l @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen n @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

@chibistar45

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Dennis Reynolds is AUTISTIC!!!!

(At least, I headcanon him as such).

Here's why:

Sensory issues:

If you've watched the show, you probably already know what I mean, but Dennis really struggles to deal with sensory input. When there's a loud noise, he often covers his ears- like in Family Fight:

or he gets frustrated, lashing out at diners for being too loud (The Gang Dines Out), getting annoyed at Frank for chewing gum too loud.

It's worth noting that later on in this episode, Dennis can hear Frank chewing gum from the other room. He's clearly hypersensitive, and perhaps this even goes to explaining a little bit why his room is soundproofed? Could it be that rather than not wanting people to hear what's going on inside, he's desperate to block the noise coming from outside?? (this was suggested by @kod-lyoko , and I LOVE IT).

There are SO many examples of Dennis plugging his ears (often when the others don't react in such a strong way):

There are way too many examples to list here, and too many images I could give (the above were taken from @dennisboobs ' gif set) but hopefully you get the impression.

Social issues:

I feel like this one is pretty self-evident, but I find deconstructing the things Dennis does super fun, so I'm going to explain anyway: Dennis does NOT know how relationships work. There are a great deal of factors at play to cause this (I would argue that his early experiences in life definitely moulded his view in an unhelpful way) but the systematic way he looks at interactions REEKS of autism to me.

The DENNIS system is hardly peak autism representation (it's certainly not the bright and bubbly stuff people often talk about), but the fact that he has a system for romantic/sexual interactions, both for men AND women, feels super autistic-coded. He quite literally has a script which he follows to make interactions easier, one which he sticks to rigidly. And if anybody tries to implement this carefully thought out system incorrectly? Well, he'll let you know (e.g in The Dennis System episode where he blows up at Mac and Charlie for not getting it right at the fair).

He masks his social deficits well, but sometimes things don't go to plan. Sometimes, the girl on the cruise ship runs away, and Dennis announces that 'that's not supposed to happen'.

He comes off as creepy, but that's not his intention. He doesn't understand the way he's perceived by others in general- he thinks he's the King of St Joseph's, not realising he was actually an outcast all along. Just like a lot of autistic people, he didn't understand that he was on the fringes of society until it was thrust in his face, and that hurt.

Speech:

While Dennis often appears to speak pretty normally, there are a few occasions where his frustration causes this mask of normality to slip.

In The Gang Finds a Dumpster Baby, Dennis is caught off guard by the hipster's reading of him, and immediately goes back to Frank and Charlie, parroting almost the same words he heard right back to them, despite not seeming to understand them at all (perhaps a form of echolalia?).

"I'm out here trying to make a difference, and you're over here rummaging around in the trash like a couple of narcs! Okay, you can't just come down here with your mainline cashmere, mousse... quaff... hairspray, and start being like, a suburban tool!"

It's also worth noting that even the poetic way he speaks when he's angry could be a trait ?? As a recently diagnosed autistic person, in my report they spoke about how I used 'idiosyncratic' language (basically, peculiar language lol), and listed terms like 'connoisseur', which I guess were deemed pretty formal for casual conversation.

And it got me thinking, who else do we know who uses VERY idiosyncratic language? Dennis. Reynolds.

"The thunder of my vengeance will echo through these halls, like the gust of a thousand winds"

"Begone, vile man, begone from me!... I am untethered and my rage knows no bounds!"

"You didn't tell me there was to be pollen!"

Etc... etc...

The way he repeats 'savages, idiots!' during his rage at the frat bros feels very autism coded to me. Repetition of certain words and phrases is common!

Heightened emotions:

Again, something that I didn't know until I myself was diagnosed is that for a lot of autistic people, we spend most of the time at a pretty 'flat' emotional state, but when we do experience emotions, we experience them intensely. Frustration turns into anger, sadness turns into despair, happiness turns into ecstasy- it's why some autistic people might be misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder!

This, of course, fits well with the way Dennis experiences emotions. He spends a lot of the time believing he doesn't have any at all, and when he does feel something, it's overwhelming.

"And I have feelings! Of course I have feelings, I have big feelings, okay? And it hurts."

These lines hit hard regardless of the extra weight you put on them, but when you see them through the lens of autism, through the lens of a lifetime of misunderstanding and overstimulation, it makes them hit even harder.

It hurts him to feel. His emotions are so strong that they're painful, and he's never been taught how to deal with them, because nobody even knew he had them in the first place.

Stimming:

Finally, I think Dennis stims. A lot. If you search up 'Dennis Reynolds autistic' on this very site, you'll find gifsets and videos illustrating this.

He has a few very common ones, like tugging on his earlobe when he's anxious, playing with his fingers, etc, but if you pay attention to him even when he's in the background of scenes, you'll pick up on a lot. Dennis is constantly moving, and while you could suggest this is simply a result of Glenn's ADHD, I'd argue that some of these stims happen so frequently in Sunny specifically, that there's no way they're coincidental.

Glenn makes a lot of very specific acting and directorial choices in Sunny, so why dismiss these as choices too?

That's all I can be bothered to type up now, but here's my case for Autistic!Dennis ! Of course, he's a complex character so there's always room for different interpretations...

but as an autistic person, I hereby claim him as One Of Us™.

[slasherx]

I'm doing fine thank you for asking, 😌

Also thank you for doing the request of Thomas Hewitt

I also had another idea you can do if you want!

Can you do a Thomas hewitt with a female s/o who can sing like really well (like lana del Rey) and he meets her at like idk when the town wasn't abandoned they used to have like little evens and the s/o sang up and like thats when thomas fell in love

I know cheesy but like aren't we all

Thats good! And yeah, no problem. Tommy's my favorite so it's always a pleasure doing requests for him :3

Content: Thomas Hewitt x fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: The gif below is one of my favorite gifs of him hehe. I also love Lana Del Rey so I'm basing this off the song "Summertime Sadness" by her. Also I do headcanon Charlie/Hoyt and Tommy to be brothers, with Luda Mae as their mom, and Monty as the only uncle and brother to Luda. I know some people have them as uncle and nephew, but I don't think thats the case. Tommy and Reader are both about 18 in this.

• ───────────────── •

Tommy both loved and hated the county fair.

He hated it because people would tell him he should be with the pigs, or with the cows, displayed for people to judge. He hated the heat that accumulated with everyone smushed together in a crowd. He hated that he had no friends to run off with and have fun with, only Charlie could do that with him, but his older brother was worried about girls. He hated that he had to stay by his mama helping sell jelly and the like, he desperately wanted to go on the rides and see the attractions.

But he also loved it because of said rides and attractions. There was a new one this year, where music was being played. He could hear it from his mama's stand. He kept looking in the direction of it, and Luda Mae could practically feel his wanting.

"Tommy, what'cha keep lookin' over there for?" Luda Mae asked.

Tommy touched his ears and pointed in the direction of the music. Luda Mae understood - he wanted to go see the music. "Well, alright. Maybe it'll lighten up your mood some."

Tommy perked up at that. He hugged her and turned to move towards the music. Luda Mae then piped up again. "But you better tell Charlie to come back if you see 'im!"

Tommy nodded before going towards the music. There was a huge crowd both sitting and standing, consisting of old and young people. The stage was made of some dark wood, with red curtains pulled back to show off the full thing. And there you stood, singing your little heart out.

Tommy could feel his knees wobble. You were singing some soft melody, and your bandmates were scattered around you. But he was attracted to you. Your voice sounded like it was touched by God himself. It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

You wore a pastel blue and white dress that cascaded down to your knees, your (color) hair cascading down (to your shoulders/past your shoulders). Tommy was enamoured. You dressed just as you sang.

As you sang, you noticed this hulking man in the back and tried to subtly get a better look. This man had broad shoulders, wavy brown hair that fell past those broad shoulders, and what seemed to be a mask covering his face. He wore a nice green dress shirt with khaki pants. You smiled, he was cute.

Tommy could've sworn he almost fainted. He turned around to see if you had smiled at someone else maybe, but he was the only one in this general direction. He kept some distance from the back of the crowd so he didn't have to hear any insults.

As you finished your song and began preparing to move to the next one, you locked eyes with him once more, singing loud and proud. Your bandmates played your instrumental, smiling to themselves as they just enjoyed playing their repsective instruments.

Tommy stayed for your whole performance, completely in a trance. He hadn't noticed the sun going down and the heat lessenig. He hadn't notice people and families shove past him to leave. All his focus was on, was you. He felt his heart pound at every syllable you sung, every note you hit.

It was poetic, he thinks. But that was soon interrupted by someone grabbing his shoulder. He whipped around angrily, only to be met with his older brother, Charlie.

"C'mon, Tommy! Been lookin' everywhere for ya! We need to go, mama's tired and sold all o' her jelly 'n shit." Charlie spoke loudly over your voice.

He didn't want to leave you. Even though you weren't singing exclusively for him, and had barely knew him much less even met him, he didn't want to leave. You showed him kidness by smiling at him. That is something he'll never forget. He just nodded to Charlie.

Charlie, figuring that was enough, turned and began heading back to Luda Mae's stand. Tommy watched him go, before turning back to you singing on stage. He raised his hand high and waved, before leaving the crowd.

You were on stage and mid-song, so you couldn't wave back. But oh how you wanted to.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!